


A Different Kind of Coaching

by Nomanono



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Asexuality, BDSM, Collars, Consent discussions, Dirty Talk, Dress Up, Enemas, Friends to Lovers, Gangbang, Happy Ending, Improvised Sex Toys, Kinbaku, Kitten Costume, Knifeplay, Lemon, M/M, Painplay, Pet Play, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Training, Shameless Smut, Skate Guards, Sounding, Ugh who put plot in my porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 149,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9124666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomanono/pseuds/Nomanono
Summary: Yuri decides he wants to give himself to a special someone, and luckily knows two people very well equipped to help him train so that, like all things, he can be the best at it.(Kinks/Pairings/Tags listed by chapter in Chapter 1)





	1. For Otabek

**Author's Note:**

> Here for a particular tag? Here's your guide to pairings and pantsfeels:
> 
>  **Chapter 1** : V/Yuu, V/Yu, Yu/Yuu -- Improvised Sex Toys, Dirty Talk  
>  **Chapter 2** : Yuu/V, Yuu/Yu, V/Yu, Vi/Yuu/Yu, Vi/Yu/Yuu -- Blowjobs, Sex Toys, Accidental Bukkake, Spit-Roasting  
>  **Chapter 3** : Yuu/Yu -- Light BDSM, Roleplay, Safe Actions  
>  **Chapter 4** : V/Yuu, V/Yu -- Kinbaku, Toys, Light BDSM, Handjobs  
>  **Chapter 5** : V/Yu, Yuu/Yu -- Improvised Sex Toys, Tough Love  
>  **Chapter 6** : Plot (gross)  
>  **Chapter 7** : Yu -- Masturbation, Sex Toys  
>  **Chapter 8** : O/Yu -- Sex Toys, Light Roleplay  
>  **Chapter 9** : O/Yu/Yuu, O/Yu/V -- Enema, Analingus, Light Roleplay  
>  **Chapter 10** : Yu/Yuu, Yuu/Yu, O/Yu, V/Yuu -- Safewords, Handjobs, Spanking, Sex Wrestling (???)  
>  **Chapter 11** : O/Yu -- Handjob, Sex Toys  
>  **Chapter 12** : O/Yuu, Yuu/V, V/Yu -- Exhibitionism, Blow Job  
>  **Chapter 13** : Yuu/Yu, V/Yu, Yu/Yuu -- Pet Play, Hands & Mouths, Lovey Sex  
>  **Chapter 14** : O/Yuu/Yu, O/V -- Blindfold, Cum Play  
>  **Chapter 15** : Yuu/V, O/V -- Riding, Command Kink  
>  **Chapter 16** : V/Yuu/Yu, O/Yu -- Blow Job, Hand Job, Semi-Public  
>  **Chapter 17** : V/Yuu, O/Yu -- Gentle Sleepy Sex, Spanking, Tiger Balm  
>  **Chapter 18** : O/Yu -- Spanking, Bathtub, Water Jets, Knife + Minor Blood  
>  **Chapter 19** : V/Yu, Yuu/Yu, V/Yuu/Yu, O/Yu -- Just lots of sex, Light Paddle/Flogger/Crop, Chastity Device  
>  **Chapter 20** : Yu, O/Yu, Yuu/Yu/V, O/V -- Chastity Device, Improvised Sounding, Threesome and a Half  
>  **Chapter 21** : V/Yuu/Yu/O -- Foreplay  
>  **Chapter 22** : Almost every conceivable permutation of Yuuri, Yuri, Chris, and Victor -- Photography  
>  **Chapter 23** : Yuu/Yu, O/V -- Negotiation, Tricksy Cubs, Hard Sex  
>  **Chapter 24** : Yuu/Yu, O/V, O/V/Yuu/Yu -- Plot, Gentle Sex, Hard Sex, Giant Dildo, Anal Gape  
>  **Chapter 25** : Yuu/Yu, O/Yu, V/Yuu -- Plot, Negotiation, Blow Job, Almost Fisting  
>  **Chapter 26** : Yuu/Yu/O/V, O/Yuu/Yu, V/Yu -- Worship, Fisting  
>  **Chapter 27** : Plot (gross)  
>  **Chapter 28** : O/Yu, Yuu/Yu -- Roleplay, Enema, Waxing  
>  **Chapter 29** : Yuri's Gang Bang (Leo, Minami focused) -- Blindfold, Cum  
>  **Chapter 30** : Yuri's Gang Bang (Emil, Sara focused) -- Blindfold, Command Kink  
>  **Chapter 31** : Yuri's Gang Bang (Mila focused) -- Pegging, Heated Toys, Het Sex  
>  **Chapter 32** : Yuri's Gang Bang (Leo focused) -- Music & Rhythm  
>  **Chapter 33** : Yuri's Gang Bang (Sara, Emil focused) -- Vibrators, Oral Sex, Het Sex  
>  **Chapter 34** : Yuri's Gang Bang (Tons of Folks) -- Lesbian Sex, Nasty Blow Jobs, Spanking, Tickle Torture  
>  **Chapter 35** : Yuri's Gang Bang (Yuuri, Victor, Otabek focused) -- Double Penetration, Watersports  
> 

“I need help… being comfortable with the- the things you and Yuuri do,” Yuri said.

Victor’s eyes lit up.

“You need us to help you become more _fuckable_ ,” Victor said. Then another realization hit him and he grinned: “For Otabek?” Yuri looked horrified that Victor had figured it out almost instantaneously but didn’t deny it. “Are you going to be his _Kotënok_?”

Yuri made a fist in the air, “I am going to be a jewel on his arm. I will make the whole world realize how strong he is. I will amplify his perfection. I will be the most beautiful extension of him.”

Victor raised his eyebrow in amusement, “And you want to be able to give your body to him.”

Yuri growled, nodded.

“You know I’ll have to touch you to help you,” Victor said.

“You have my _consent_ ,” Yuri hissed. 

“I need more than that,” Victor said. “I need your guarantee that you’ll tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I want this!” Yuri said, pushing on Victor’s chest. “Just, help me.”

“Yuuri,” Victor called over his shoulder. 

Yuuri’s head popped in from the kitchenette. 

“Come here?”

It didn’t take him long. Yuuri strode up alongside Victor, eyes all curiosity.

“Yuri needs help getting ready to be fucked,” Victor said. “I thought before we start touching him, we could get him used to the idea. Will you be our demo?”

“Eh?!” Yuuri looked alarmed. 

“I just want to show him a few things,” Victor said, simultaneously sliding his hand down Yuuri’s back and around his ass. He gave it a playful squeeze. “You know how much you like this sort of thing.”

\----

Five minutes later Yuuri was bare-bottomed, a cushion under his knees and his stomach resting on one of the ottomans. 

“Yuuri has a very fine ass,” Victor said matter-of-factly, laying his palm on one of the cheeks. He gave it a firm rub, letting Yuri watch the interplay of fat and muscle. “And he loves it when I play with it. Are you still flinching when yours is touched?”

Yuri growled, “I flinched before his hand even got there. I don’t want him thinking I’m afraid.”

“And I suppose you don’t want to tell him?” 

Yuri shook his head vigorously. 

“Alright,” Victor said. “Then the first thing I want to do is get you used to being touched. Then we’ll build up to having your ass played with, and finally we can start training you to handle different sizes and speeds inside you.”

This whole time, Victor had been rubbing his palm over Yuuri, and now his finger slid into the valley between Yuuri’s cheeks. As this happened, Yuuri’s back arched and the muscles of his ass fluttered against Victor’s fingers. 

“That’s where we want to get you,” Victor said. “All I have to do is caress him and his body wants more.”

Victor used a single finger, setting it on the dark crinkle and tracing the smallest circles around the cinched muscle there. Yuuri’s body, again, strained towards the touch, and the muscle itself pulsed.

“See?”

“Mm.” Yuri nodded. He was in learning mode now, more focused and attentive than Victor had ever seen him off the ice or outside the ballet room. He wanted this.

Victor’s other hand was suddenly on Yuri’s backside. Yuri flinched, then growled at himself for flinching and relaxed. Victor nodded his approval, squeezed and released. 

“Go grab the lube,” Victor told Yuri, pointing towards the nightstand. They had a full size bed now, no longer the two twins. As Yuri moved to his feet, Victor gave his ass a smack, and while he jumped, it was far more surprise than fear.

“You’re doing very well,” Victor cooed to Yuuri in the interim, tickling the stretch of skin between his ass and his balls. Yuuri just groaned and pressed his face into the ottoman.

“The more frequently you’re fucked, the less preparation you’ll need,” Victor said when Yuri returned. “If you don’t want Otabek to have to go easy on you and work you up, we should practice fucking you with different things here until you just need a small bit of lube.”

“I don’t even want to need that,” Yuri said.

“Then we’ll have to spend a lot of time in your ass.”

Yuri shrugged, as if he couldn’t care less. When he had a goal, he was bound and determined.

Victor dripped some lube onto Yuuri’s asshole, spreading it around with his fingertip. Again, Yuuri’s body reached for the contact.

“See how much he wants it?” Victor asked. “Do you think you’ll want Otabek’s cock like that?”

“I already do,” Yuri said. “I want him to be able to take anything he wants. I want him to be able to use me to the full extent.”

“How healthy and romantic,” Victor smirked. 

“ _Victor_ ,” Yuuri whined, Victor’s finger having moved too far away. Victor chuckled and brought his finger down again, though this time he pressed it against the dimpled flesh. Yuuri’s ass didn’t put up a fight. The little dark brown edges twitched eagerly, all but tugging Victor’s finger inside. 

“Yuuri and I have sex often enough that he’s already ready,” Victor said. “See how you can tell?”

Yuri nodded.

“If I want to, I can tease him until he begs at this stage,” Victor said. “These sorts of touches feel wonderful but they’re not enough for him to get off. I have to be hitting his prostate for that.”

Victor used two fingers to make a walking motion over Yuuri’s muscle, each one pressing down but never quite penetrating. 

“ _Victor_ ,” Yuuri exclaimed again. 

Victor looked over at Yuri: “Why don’t you try? Yuuri, do you mind Yuri playing with you?”

“Just give me _more_ ,” Yuuri begged. 

“Don’t give him any more,” Victor said to Yuri. “Just keep teasing him. I want you to see what you can work up to.” 

Yuri studied Yuuri’s ass, starting to get a flush tinge to it, and brought his hand forward. His fingers were smaller than Victor’s, far more delicate, and they didn’t touch with the same familiar confidence. Yuri touched like he was exploring, tentative in a way that didn’t match his normal personality. 

“You’re very gentle,” Victor said as he watched Yuri slide his finger through the valley. Yuri shot a glare to Victor and brought his nails out, scraping them very carefully on the brown skin. 

“Ah!” Yuuri cried out, but his ass lifted, wanting. 

Yuri looked to Victor for approval, and Victor acknowledged him with a nod. “Keep going. You can touch lower, through here; it’s also sensitive though not in the same way.” He gestured to Yuuri’s taint, testes, but Yuri seemed more fixated on his ass proper.

“Now, slide a finger in,” Victor instructed.

“Which one?”

“Middle,” Yuuri answered, his ass clenching tight in anticipation before he relaxed it again. “Hurry up.” 

“Yuuri likes long fingers,” Victor explained. “See how he has to keep himself relaxed? That can be difficult. When you really want something in your ass, you can tighten up and actually make it harder for someone to get inside. He’s tensing up because he wants you, but now he’s got to keep himself open for you.”

“I can do that,” Yuri said, swollen with his usual self-confidence. He let his middle finger press against Yuuri’s entrance, and it slid down immediately, almost as if there was no resistance at all. 

“Did you feel that? How easy it was?” Victor asked. He was lubing up his pinky finger. Yuri nodded. “Now I’m going to press against yours so you can feel the difference. Try to relax and open up for it.”

Yuri tensed immediately as Victor slid his hand down under Yuri’s clothes. His ass might as well have been a rock for how clenched the muscles were. 

“Relax,” Victor said, his pinky finding the muscle in question and pressing against it. It felt like pushing on a locked door. There was simply no way inside. Even when Yuri tried to relax the muscle itself still stayed slammed shut.

“Now you know how far we have to go,” Victor said, removing his hand. Yuri looked immensely frustrated with himself.

“Yuri why did you stop,” Yuuri asked. Yuri remembered his finger and slid it in further, surprised at how Yuuri’s body seemed to melt in satisfaction and pull the digit in even deeper. 

“It’s like he’s sucking on my finger,” Yuri said in surprise. 

“He has an incredible ass,” Victor nodded. “Try lifting your finger straight in and out, up and down. We can talk about angles and grips later.”

Yuri did as instructed, keeping his finger rigid and starting to thrust it slowly into Yuuri’s ass. Again, it felt like every time he pushed in, Yuuri was trying to suckle him in deeper. Every time he started to leave, Yuuri would grip hard onto Yuri’s finger in remorse.

“Are you trying to keep him in you, Yuuri?” Victor asked. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri confirmed.

Victor gave Yuuri’s ass a little swat and he could see Yuri’s eyes widen.

“If you’re hit like that, you usually clench down,” Victor said. “I usually do it to Yuri before I come, because I like how the tightness feels. Otabek might do the same to you.”

That sparked something in Yuri, something that made him swallow and drag his teeth over his lip and shift his position. 

“Do you like that idea?” Victor asked. “Having his hand come across your ass while he’s in you? Should we practice that to make sure you respond correctly?”

Yuri’s free hand closed to a tight fist and he gave a single, emphatic nod.

“Now, Yuuri, don’t try to keep him in,” Victor said. “Loosen up. Just let him have all of you.”

Yuuri groaned but the next moment the grip Yuri had felt was gone. His finger slid in and out of this warm, wet sleeve without anything holding him back. There was nothing to fight against. Just this incredible, soft tunnel. Again, Yuuri shifted in his position.

“ _Victor_ ,” Yuuri begged. 

“Yuuri,” Victor purred back to him, soothing. “Do you want Yuri to fuck you? If he comes, it’ll help him relax so I can start playing with his ass.”

Yuuri’s toes curled against the cushion and he nodded. “Anything. Please.”

“Do you want to fuck him, Yuri?” Victor asked. “Do you like the way it feels around your finger?”

Yuri nodded, pushed down his pants like this was what he’d been waiting for. He was hard as a rock as he shifted to be between Yuuri’s legs. Victor’s hand between his legs startled him, lining him with lubricant.

“Yuuri could take you dry, now that you’ve teased him like this, but it’ll feel better for both of you this way,” Victor said. Yuuri let out a muted moan, spreading his legs just a fraction wider. 

“Hurry up,” Yuuri hissed, looking over his shoulder at Yuri, goading him. 

Yuri, ever the competitive spirit, took the challenge head on and pushed his cock up against Yuuri’s hole. Before he could even thrust, Yuuri had pressed back, his body swallowing the flesh without a second thought. Yuri gaped in surprise for a split second, then pushed Yuuri down, forcing his chest flush to the ottoman as Yuri gave an angry, powerful forward thrust. 

“Ahhn!” Yuuri gasped, fading to a moan.

“Don’t be coy,” Victor chided Yuuri. His hand went between Yuuri’s legs, flicking the tip of his length in punishment as Yuri started a harsh, quick rhythm in his ass. 

“Keep yourself open to him. Let him enjoy himself.” 

Yuuri just groaned again, face pressed into the material, but Victor saw the muscles give in. 

“I want to feel like this for him,” Yuri said, voice stressed, clearly enjoying the sensation and taking full advantage of it.

“You will,” Victor said. “I trained Yuuri for this, I can train you there, too.”

Victor had fucked Yuuri many different ways, in many different positions and places. Sometimes it was slow and gentle - it was love and tenderness and care. Sometimes it was quick, desperate - stolen moments in bathrooms or lockers where they ran the risk of discovery. But it never felt like Yuri felt. Yuri was hyper-charged. He was chaotic and angry and so incredibly powerful for his size. Yuuri just laid there and took it and his only regret was that Yuri was young and quick. 

“Tsch-ah!” Yuri froze, tense, inside of him.

As Yuri was coming, Victor set his hand on Yuri’s ass again, taking the opportunity for Yuri to associate those pleasurable sensations with his ass, not just his cock. Part of the training was going to be rewiring his brain. 

“Victor, Victor please,” Yuuri whimpered, desperate, because he’d been so close but Yuri had ended just a fraction too early. 

“Pull out and let me finish him,” Victor said to Yuri, and when Yuri was gone Victor slipped three of his fingers into Yuuri’s ass instead. He pistoned them into Yuuri at the same pace Yuri had used, but adjusted the angle to better impact Yuuri’s nerves. It took all of twenty seconds for Yuuri to come that way, right into the tissue Victor held for him. 

Victor looked down at his two flush boys, both panting and rosy-cheeked. 

“You both did very well,” he complimented them. “Yuuri, why don’t you go to the couch - but keep your clothes off - and Yuri you come here instead so I can start working on you.”

Without protest, Yuuri stood weakly from the ottoman, shuffling his legs to the couch and curling up there, exhausted. 

“Here, Yuri,” Victor said. “Take your pants off first. Or, if you’re feeling comfortable. Let me take them off you.”

Yuri gave a look of assent and stood next to Victor, letting him take the pants puddled around his ankles off until his bottom half was bare. As he went to bend over the ottoman, though, he startled and froze. 

“Is it too much like what happened to you before?” Victor asked. Yuri glared at the idea, but again, didn’t deny it. 

“We’ll start with you on your back then,” Victor said. “Just lay on this cushion and tuck up your legs.”

Yuri was able to comply with those instructions. He turned over onto his back on the cushion, then pulled his legs up, knees together. 

Victor chuckled fondly, hand coming to brush Yuri’s ass, ignoring the lazy flinch.

“Yuri, if I was walking down the market and had a dozen asses to choose from, you should make me want to choose yours. Show off for me. Put everything on display.”

Yuri blushed, but then his knees fell open, revealing the planes of his body. He tucked his knees farther back, angling his ass so that the muscle was pointed higher, towards Victor. 

“Beautiful,” Victor approved. He touched Yuri’s ankle, “Don’t forget what Lilia would say about your toes.” And on instinct Yuri’s feet pointed. “Perfect.”

“You look very fuckable,” Yuuri said from where he watched on the couch. “Otabek will be lucky.”

Those words made Yuri’s whole body glow with pride. He wanted to be the most beautiful thing for Otabek. The most perfect, arousing toy for him to play with.

“I want him to fuck me whenever he wants,” Yuri said. “On the slightest whim. No matter where or how, I want to be ready to take him in me.”

Victor had been touching him this whole time, touching his inner thighs, rubbing down to his ass, squeezing, and generally getting Yuri used to having hands on him. 

“You’ll get there,” Victor said. “But you have to start slowly.”

“Victor… mmm…” Yuuri said from the couch. 

Victor chuckled, “Are you still turned on, Yuuri? Go get your favorite toy. I’ll put it inside you and you can let your ass suck on it while I work Yuri.”

This made Yuuri blush, but he got up from the couch all the same. 

“Why aren’t you touching my asshole?” Yuri asked after he watched Yuuri disappear, never breaking his form. 

“Be patient,” Victor said. “I want you to _want_ it. Not because you want to train, but because your ass needs it. We have to make you hungry for it.” As he said this, his hands circled closer to that dark muscle - though on Yuri’s skin tone it was less brown and more of a tarnished pink. “Your ass should have a mind of its own. If you want to be ready at any hour, then you need to constantly have that desire in you. Your ass should feel awful when it’s empty.”

Yuri groaned at the description, his hips curving towards the idea and his spent length twitching and starting to fill with blood again.

“I want it,” Yuri said. Victor had a cheek in either hand, and his thumbs were slowly spreading open Yuri’s ass, teasing the muscle without ever touching it. 

“But you don’t _need_ it yet,” Victor said. “That’s where I’ll get you. To where you need it. You can’t be without it.”

As if on cue, Yuuri returned, holding something behind his back. 

“Lay down on the other cushion, Yuuri,” Victor commanded. “Same position.” 

Soon, he had two beautiful asses looking up at him, and Yuri and Yuuri shoulder to shoulder on the cushions. 

“Give it here, Yuuri,” Victor said, holding out his hand. 

Yuuri glanced at Yuri, blushed, and pulled out his skate guards. He handed one to Victor, just the sight making his ass clench. 

Victor lubed the plastic, then lowered the front hook to Yuuri’s ass. The hook of the skate guard was always the most difficult. As it curved, it had to stretch open Yuuri’s ass before Yuuri could clamp down around the body of it. Yuuri’s face scrunched in momentary pain at the thickest point, and then the hook of the skate guard was fully inside of him and Victor could feed another several inches in, watching as every groove caught on Yuuri’s muscle, pulled it, and then released. He adjusted the position so that the hook would be pressing right up against Yuuri’s prostate, and then simply let the guard go.

Yuri watched in fascination as the skate guard began to fluctuate, in and out of Yuuri’s ass, a centimeter at a time. By clenching and releasing the muscles of his ass, Yuuri was literally able to fuck himself with the skate guard. 

“Uhn!?” Yuri exclaimed, watching. 

“You have a long way to go, Yuri, but you’ll get here,” Victor said. Yuuri had his head tipped back, blissed out from the sensations. It clearly took a great deal of effort; Yuuri was panting softly as he ground the hook of the skate guard against his prostate using only the muscles of his body. But it was clearly worth it.

With Yuuri satisfied, Victor returned his attention to Yuri. His hands had never stopped groping, and his thumbs had kept gently stretching the muscle, but now, finally, they stroked it. He put his thumbs together and rolled them one on top of the other, like a waterwheel, against Yuri’s muscle. It provided constant stimulation and gentle pressure. Whenever Yuri’s muscles tightened - which was frequently - it prevented Victor’s thumbs from continuing. In this way, Yuri’s body could learn that if it wanted to feel good, it had to stay relaxed.

“How are you doing?” Victor asked.

Yuuri let out a satisfied groan, not realizing Victor was talking to Yuri.

“I want something in me,” Yuri said, glancing at the end of the skate guard emerging from Yuuri’s ass. 

“It’ll be awhile before you’re ready for a skate guard,” Victor warned. “Getting the hook in can really stretch you out, even if we angle it properly. And those grip ridges can be incredibly rough on your inner tissue.”

“Heavenly,” Yuuri countered.

Victor laughed. “Plus, you don’t want to get addicted too quickly. Yuuri walks into skate shops now and just sees rows and rows of dildos.”

Yuuri couldn’t even be bothered to blush.

Victor lubed up his middle finger and brought it between Yuri’s cheeks. “I’m going to go inside you now. Have you had anything inside you before?”

Yuri glared at the question - moreso at the fact that he had to shake his head no. 

“It’s going to feel very strange, probably quite uncomfortable,” Victor said. “It might help you to push out with your muscles, because your brain’s going to think you’re shitting and want to clamp up to stop it.”

Again, Yuri’s face contorted in disgust.

“Don’t get upset,” Victor said. “Your body’s only used your ass for one thing before. We have to train it.”

The whole time he’d been talking he’d been letting his middle finger swirl around Yuri’s asshole, pressing a little bit harder on every revolution. Victor had dainty fingernails, wasn’t worried about hurting Yuri with them as his middle finger finally started to press in earnest. There was enough lube that they didn’t have to worry about friction, only the tension in Yuri’s body.

“Take some deep breaths,” Victor said. “You’re too tense for me to do anything right now. If it helps, imagine Otabek on top of you. He’s got his cock in his hand but he wants it in your ass. You need to make your body ready for him. Let your ass go to him. Relax.”

Victor felt the slow uncoiling of Yuri’s body, and when the muscle beneath his fingertip loosened enough, Victor took the opportunity to flush his finger inside. 

“Ei!” Yuri gasped. His erection flagged and Victor, without thinking, brought his other hand up to stroke it a few times. 

“Why are you —“ Yuri started.

“You want this associated with pleasure, don’t you? You want to feel good when Otabek fucks you?” 

Yuri nodded. 

“Then we teach your body that having something in your ass arouses you.”

Victor still couldn’t move his finger. Yuri had all but solidified around it.

“Don’t forget to relax. I can’t move at all right now,” Victor said, still stroking Yuri. 

Yuuri was making soft mewling noises. He’d brought his toes down to the end of the skate guard sticking out of him and was pushing it in very slowly, forcing the hook against his prostate while the teeth of the grip slipped across his muscle. Then he’d relax, and let the guard slip out a ways, only to begin the process again.

“I walked in on him like this one day,” Victor said. “Caught an early flight, came home and there he was, bright red, thick black skate guard sticking out of his ass.” Yuuri only had half a mind to be embarrassed.

Yuri, in his distraction, had finally loosened up, and so Victor inched his finger out and back in, moving no more than a centimeter. 

Again, Yuri instantly clamped down.

“That was back before we’d fucked,” Victor said. “Yuuri said he was trying to get used to it.”

“Just like you,” Yuuri chimed. “But you never stuck anything inside yourself.”

“There’s something inside me now,” Yuri growled. 

“And you need to relax,” Victor sing-songed. “Remember how easily your finger glided in and out of Yuuri?”

“Yes but how often do you fuck? It’s not a fair comparison.”

“Almost every night; more on the weekends,” Victor said. “But I’m not always on top.”

“I want to take him every night. I’ll be in his bed waiting for him and he can have me like an after dinner wine,” Yuri said with determination. “When he wakes up in the morning I can bend over and let him start his day properly, so he’s relaxed and focused for practice.”

Victor just chuckled, groping at Yuri’s ass, stroking his cock from time to time, and as he began to relax letting his finger move inside. If thrusting in and out was setting Yuri off too much, he could always start tenderizing Yuri from the inside. 

His middle finger began to caress the tightness all around, curling as he sought out that dense, tight knot of nerves. He knew exactly when he found it because Yuri’s eyes widened and - finally - his hips did too. That most primal desire for sex took over and Yuri’s body gave in, wanting more.

“There it is,” Victor grinned down to him, and without thinking about it bent and kissed his startled expression.

“Ngh!” Yuri said. “What —“

“Ah, the greatest, gayest secret of them all,” Victor winked. “Feels good doesn’t it?” He pressed his finger firmly against that knot, then made little circles on it with the pad of his finger.

Yuri groaned and tilted his head back, his cock fully hard again and pulsing on his chest.

“I’m going to keep touching you there,” Victor said, “so warn me if you feel like you’re going to come. I want to keep you here for awhile.”

This time, when he pulled his finger out, Yuri didn’t clamp down. If anything, Victor felt his body open up - pushing out like Victor had told him. Victor pressed his finger back inside, touching Yuri’s prostate on every inward thrust. That sensation was one of the hardest to get used to, so if Victor could just make sure that Yuri associated it with the pleasure of having his prostate played with, they’d be in a good place.

“Victor,” Yuuri whined beside him. Victor brought his free hand between Yuuri’s legs, groping his balls gently to gauge how tight they were in the sack. It took a split second for Victor to feel how close he was, almost coming.

“Don’t come, Yuuri,” Victor warned. “Slow down if you have to.” He grabbed the end of the skate guard, holding it still so Yuuri wouldn’t be able to fuck himself with it for a moment. Yuuri let out a groan of disappointment and bottled desire.

“Yuuri shouldn’t have so little stamina at his age,” Victor teased. “But waiting for me means he had it all pent up too long, I think.”

He looked down at Yuri, who was - impressively - starting to rock his hips slowly down onto Victor’s finger.

“Very good,” Victor said. “It’s usually easier for your body if you’re the one instigating the sensation. Is this better for you?”

Yuri nodded.

“Do you think Otabek would like it if you rode his cock?” Victor asked. “If you hop onto his lap and slide yourself down?”

Yuri shivered at the idea of it. He was slipping along Victor’s finger easily now, his eyes half-lidded.

“Go ahead and imagine it,” Victor said. “Imagine this is his cock in you. Show me how you’d ride it.” With a groan, Yuri’s eyes opened. He rolled his body forward, right into Victor’s face, until he was squatting over Victor’s hand. 

“Use my shoulders to steady yourself,” Victor helped as he saw Yuri teeter. Yuri clamped onto his shoulders, then looked down between his legs. He lined himself up with Victor’s finger again and carefully lowered himself down onto it.

“Feel good?” Victor asked, brushing his finger where he knew it would feel best.

Yuri growled his response, brow knit in concentration, the muscles in his thighs like steel cables as he held his weight. Yuuri was watching him attentively, slowly starting up his motions with the skate guard again, though Victor gave him a warning look not to overdo it. 

Yuri suddenly went still again, letting out a little noise of surprise: “What was that?”

“Another finger,” Victor said. “You handled it well.”

Yuri groaned. His muscles were impeccable, keeping him squatting on his toes for so long. His ballet training had been paying off on the ice, but Victor hadn’t realize how useful it could be elsewhere.

Yuri adapted to two fingers much faster than Victor anticipated, until Victor was able to slide them in and out quite easily and have Yuri meet the thrusts from time to time.

“Yuri,” Victor said. “Can Yuuri fuck you? His cock’s a good size for you right now. Or we can switch to a toy.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed in concentration, clearly having difficulty thinking while he was also dealing with the influx of stimulation.

“What about you?” Yuri asked. 

“You’re not ready for me yet,” Victor said. “Soon.”

“I want it to be you,” Yuri decided. 

“Then we’ll use toys to train you up,” Victor said. “Yuuri, can you get your box?”

Yuuri stood up carefully, mindful of the skate guard still inside him. Victor made a point of jostling it as Yuuri went. 

In the mean time Victor kept working his fingers in and out of Yuri, exhausting that muscle, exciting the flesh inside. Yuri’s cock hadn’t softened, was stiff and proud along his belly. His only acknowledgment when Victor added a third finger was a groan. 

Yuuri came toddling back, box in hand, and set it down at Victor’s side. As he sat, he angled his ass so that the guard would push deep. 

“Yuuri,” Victor warned. Yuuri gave Victor a beautiful pout and took up his position beside Yuri again, on his back, legs spread, not playing with the guard.

Victor’s hand hovered over the box, surveying the contents inside until he found what he wanted. He pulled out a stubby bullet: the surface a smooth mint color, only four inches long, and slightly thinner than Victor’s three fingers around. Yuuri purred his approval at the choice.

“I’m going to try fucking you pretty hard with this one,” Victor said. “If you can handle it, you can have my cock.”

Yuri nodded and closed his eyes, even going so far as to mewl when Victor removed his fingers.

“It does feel empty,” Yuri pouted, and Victor watched his muscle flutter open and closed, like it wanted more. Victor set the tip of the bullet just at the mouth of Yuri’s backside, just within reach of that pulsing entrance. 

“See if you can pull it into you, even just a little,” Victor said, holding the toy steady. Yuri’s hips stretched, pressing against the toy, and once he could feel the blunt end stretching him open he tried to pull it inward. He managed to get a fraction of a centimeter in, but was so excited about his accomplishment that he tensed and ejected it immediately. Victor chuckled, pressing it up to Yuri’s body again. 

“A good start,” he said, and fed the toy inside. He didn’t let up the pressure, even as he felt the fluctuations in resistance that meant Yuri was trying to control his flinching and keep himself open. 

“Good,” Victor said again when the toy was all the way in, but he didn’t give Yuri any time to get used to it. Holding tight to the back end, Victor pulled it out and pushed back in, starting a rhythm of staccato thrusts. Yuri’s legs went from being pleasantly bent to kicking into the air at the sensation, started by Victor’s intensity.

“Ah! Stop!” Yuri cried out, and Victor did.

He let the toy slide out and both he and Yuuri turned their full attention to the boy. 

Yuri panted for a moment, his body still flushed pink. “I wasn’t ready for that hard. But I want to keep going.”

Victor grinned, kissed Yuri’s cheek. “OK.”

This time, he took up an easier rhythm with the toy, but still one that didn’t let Yuri rest. He kept the toy constantly moving, constantly stimulating. Yuri had his eyes closed, panting, and he’d leaked a sticky puddle onto his stomach by this point. As Victor worked, he let his other hand drizzle lube onto a larger toy, and while Yuri was quietly moaning Victor switched him to the bigger size.

“Ah!” Yuri cried out again, but this time he didn’t ask to stop. 

“Victor,” Yuuri was whining. He was pulling the skate guard out of himself - very, very slowly - letting the hook catch on his innards and send him shivering. But he wanted more, and then the hook finally fell out and showed off Yuuri’s glistening ass and the tiny window of flush red inside. Victor at last felt his own arousal rising up, teetering on the edge of his control. 

“Yuri, are you ready for me?” Victor asked after another minute of the larger toy. He pulled the toy out just as slow as Yuuri had, giving Yuri plenty of time to feel the encroaching emptiness.

“Fuck me,” Yuri groaned when he found himself suddenly exposed to the chill.

“Yuuri, can I?” Victor asked, touching Yuuri’s cheek to wake him from his lustful haze. 

“Only if you fuck me too,” Yuuri said. 

“Yuri, do you mind? We’re both clean,” Victor said.

“Just fucking fuck me already, _fuck_ ,” Yuri finally cried.

“As you wish,” Victor said as he stood. He looked down at both boys, flush red and cocks hard, legs spread and asses twinkling with lube, so completely and utterly ready to get fucked. Desperate, each of them, to get fucked. Victor pushed down his pants, cock springing free, and he gave it a few strokes to spread the lube around.

“Husbands first,” Victor said, crouching over Yuuri and sliding in without any effort at all. Yuuri’s hands fastened around him immediately, holding onto his shoulders, nails out, and his legs lifting up close to his chest to give Victor every last centimeter. Victor kissed Yuuri’s cheek and pulled out after only a few moments, a few beautiful promising thrusts. Yuuri groaned as Victor switched to Yuri, looming over the blond. 

“Try to pull it in,” Victor said. “Practice for Otabek.”

He set the head of his cock right there, just barely touching Yuri, and Yuri was the one who pushed himself down onto it and then curled his muscles inward to bring Victor in. He managed more than he had with the toy - though it was still hardly anything - and then Victor used that momentum to sink another inch inside. 

Yuri tightened up and choked, gasping at the feel. 

“Pull out,” Yuri said, and Victor did, only going slow enough to make sure he didn’t hurt Yuri. 

Victor gazed down at him, rubbing his thigh. “You OK?”

Yuri nodded, breathing hard, and then looked at Victor again. “I’m ready.”

Victor mounted him once more, pulling Yuri’s ass closer to the edge of the cushion, and then started to sink in. 

“You’re safe here,” Victor said, and Yuri nodded. He breathed. His whole body was tight but Victor had done so much work exhausting Yuri’s ass that the boy could hardly clamp down anymore. Yuri’s eyes winced shut at something and Victor caught his cheek, brushed his thumb beneath Yuri’s eye until they opened. “It’s just me. Look at me. I’m right here.”

Yuri redoubled his efforts, staring at Victor, and Victor staring at him. Victor grinned, charming and sexy and rolling his hips into Yuri just the way he wanted. 

“It’ll be Otabek doing this to you soon,” Victor encouraged Yuri as he felt him relaxing. “He’ll come home and you’ll be there on his bed, waiting to give yourself to him.”

“Yes,” Yuri groaned. 

“He uses you after practice, when he’s tired and needs to relax,” Victor said. Filling Yuri’s head with new images. Better images. “You keep yourself plugged and wet so all he has to do is throw you back and get between your legs.” 

Yuri’s cock jumped like he was about to come, and so Victor stopped, pulled out, left Yuri furious there as he switched back over to Yuuri. 

Yuuri swallowed him, and Victor was able to thrust far more powerfully into Yuuri’s pliant, begging body. 

“Victoru!” Yuuri cried, his accent always thickest in bed. His thighs clenched up, his head tilted back, and Yuri stared with need and jealousy while Victor pounded him. 

Victor saw, saw how much Yuri wanted it, and pulled back. He pushed his hand down on Yuri’s chest, flattening him out again, and dipped his cock inside three times, each one tortuously slow, each one going from the very tip until he bottomed out. Then to Yuuri again, repeating the same process, agonizing both of his boys. They were both leaking, both so hard their cocks were going purple, both red-cheeked and mouth-breathing, and needing it so badly they could hardly do anything besides moan.

“Who wants my come?” Victor asked. 

“Guests first,” Yuuri managed. 

“Yuri?”

“ _Yes._ ”

So Victor bent over Yuuri, and Yuuri gasped in relief as Victor gave it to him as hard as he could, jackhammering his hips into Yuuri until they were sliding off the cushion altogether. When Yuuri finally came he hadn’t even touched his cock, he just erupted with a scream that surely the neighbors heard but neither of them cared. 

Victor pulled out, gave himself a moment to recover while his eyes turned on Yuri. Yuri, astounded by the raw ferocity and desire in Victor’s eyes, swallowed and laid himself back, tucking his legs up again. He remembered what Victor had said before and let his legs open wider, hips tilting up to show off his ass. 

Victor gave the offering a quick smack, making Yuri jump, and then lined up his cock and pushed in. 

Yuuri was still gasping for air, completely limp, unconcerned with the stickiness across his belly, but he watched Victor and Yuri like he couldn’t help himself. 

It wasn’t as fast or as hard as what Yuuri had received, but it was _deep_ and every thrust mattered. Victor angled them to hit that spot inside Yuri, and every time he did Yuri’s cock leapt in response. 

“Can you come without touching yourself?” Victor asked. “Just from getting fucked and thinking about him?”

Yuri groaned.

“If he’s fucking you so often, he might not have time to get you off, too,” Victor said, breathy with exertion. “But I bet you look beautiful when you come. I bet he likes seeing it. Likes how it completes the rest of you.”

Yuri loved being called beautiful. Victor saw it in the way his chest inflated and his cheeks turned a shade darker.

“So you have to learn to come for him while he fucks you,” Victor said. “You have to learn to come right before he does, because when you do your ass’ll tighten up and your whole body will glow and there’s no way he can resist that.” 

Every stroke right against his prostate, every stroke perfect.

“Maybe you’ll get so used to coming on his cock that it doesn’t feel right without him inside you,” Victor continued. “Maybe you’ll get so used to it that all he has to do is lean over you and command you: ‘come for me’ and you won’t be able to resist. You’ll feel all of that tightness inside of you, building” Victor thrust “and building” and thrust “and building” _thrust_ “and then —“

Yuri screamed. His back arched, his balls tightened, his cock burst with come. 

And god, was he beautiful. 

Victor drank it all in as he came to the feel of Yuri dancing on his cock, helpless as a worm on a fishhook but infinitely more aesthetic. 

“Mm,” Yuuri sighed, equally taken by the way Yuri looked, every part of his body taut and stretched and gorgeous. He’d been molded into a machine whose very function was to be beautiful in all that he did, and this was no exception.

And then Yuri went limp, utterly and completely boneless, gasping for breath and staring blankly ahead in amazement. 

Victor stayed still inside of him. Yuuri got to his feet in a stupor, pointing at the white smear on the far wall. 

“Teenagers,” Victor shrugged. He started to pull out, carefully, and when he was free gave Yuri’s ass a fond pat. He set the dirty toys aside to be washed, and Yuuri came over with the tissue box to start cleaning. 

Yuri continued to lay there, dazed, as they squeezed the extra drips out of his softened cock and wiped up the lube smeared between his cheeks. 

“You ok, _Kotënok_?” Victor asked, rubbing Yuri’s stomach. 

“Nn..” Yuri managed.

Yuuri brought a glass of juice and Victor helped Yuri sit up. He was still stunned, shivering faintly, and leaned against Victor as he drank. Yuuri rubbed his back, kneeling and watching to make sure Yuri was alright.

“You did really well,” Yuuri said, stealing a quick hug from Yuri. “And you _are_ gorgeous. Otabek will love you.”

That made Yuri’s lips quirk up, and he took his next drink of juice like he’d just gotten a note from his crush.

“You can come back when you’re ready and we’ll keep working on your flinching,” Victor said. 

“Can I stay?” Yuri asked, handing the juice back to Yuuri.

“Of course,” Yuuri said, and it wasn’t another full minute before he was sound asleep.


	2. Mouthing Off

“Where’s Victor?” Yuri asked, hardly in the door before he started stripping off his jacket, sweatshirt, t-shirt.

Yuuri watched in bemusement, almost disappointed that Yuri finally paused in his undressing when he was down to his underwear.

“He’s here isn’t he?” Yuri asked, and Yuuri laughed. 

“Yes,” Yuuri said, nodding towards the practice room. 

“Victor!” Yuri called, storming off. 

“Yuri,” Victor sing-songed. “I still have five minutes left.”

Yuuri trailed behind Yuri, finding Victor with his legs split, forward and back foot both elevated on pillows. Yuri winced. 

“I hate when Lilia makes me do that.”

“Bet it makes your ass look good though,” Victor grinned. 

“It already looks good,” Yuri said, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “I don’t have much time. Otabek invited me for dinner this weekend. I need to be ready.”

“Oooh,” Victor grinned. “Going to try to make things official?”

Yuri glared at him. “What can you teach me?!”

“Easy, _Kotënok_ ,” Victor soothed. “Do you just want to work on your ass, or are you planning on giving more to him?”

“Anything he desires will be his,” Yuri declared, finger pointing for emphasis.

Victor laughed and shot a coy look to Yuuri. “Yuuri, will you demo for us again?”

Yuuri blushed and fidgeted, “I need to be in good shape for tomorrow, _coach_.”

“Ah,” Victor said, holding up a finger. “This won’t involve your ass.”

Yuuri blinked, then his blush deepened, and Victor gave him a lovely, playful wink. 

“What’s going on?!” Yuri said, stamping his foot. 

The timer on Victor’s phone went off and he carefully jiggled himself out of his stretch, sighing as he did a few cool downs and then stood. 

“I assume you touch yourself,” Victor said to Yuri. Then, considering: “Or is that why you’re so angry all the time?”

“Shut up!” Yuri said. “I do it!” 

Victor shrugged. “Then you know how to touch a dick. Today we’ll work on how to blow one.”

Yuri flushed, startled. 

Victor took the pillows he’d used for stretching and dropped them at Yuuri’s feet. Yuuri was still flush, but more excited than embarrassed now as Victor kissed him - lips first, then neck, then his hands descended over Yuuri’s chest. He slid down until his knees were resting on the cushion, and with a cant of his head invited Yuri to join him. 

Yuri looked torn, simultaneously desperate for the skills to impress Otabek and horrified at the prospect of sucking Katsudon’s cock. 

With an angry growl he came over and knelt. Yuuri was playing his fingers gently through Victor’s hair, but the moment it came towards Yuri he hissed and snapped his teeth.

“Be nice,” Victor admonished. He tangled his hand in Yuri’s hair and tugged his head back. “What if Otabek wants to control you this way?” 

That made Yuri flush anew, not just in his cheeks but across his abdomen. He still had his tight jeans on, which gave Victor further proof of how it affected him. Victor smirked, slowly loosening his hold and ruffling Yuri’s hair. Victor toyed with the waistline of Yuuri’s sweatpants, easing them down along with his underwear until Yuuri could step free.

“Why can’t I practice on you?” Yuri huffed.

“Because I’ve been working out and won’t smell like soap and flowers,” Victor teased. “And for the same reason you couldn’t have my cock in your ass right away. You need to work your way up. Yuuri’s perfect to get you started.”

“We can’t use toys?”

“We can, but you said you didn’t have much time. This is the fastest way to learn.”

With that, Victor brought his hands between Yuuri’s legs. He cupped one around Yuuri’s balls, the other holding the base of his cock, and then kissed the tip. He gave a slow swirl of his tongue around the head, then, without any effort at all it seemed, he let Yuuri glide into his mouth and down his throat. He settled there, nose nuzzling the sparse fluff of Yuuri’s pelvis, and then slid his mouth back off again, offering another tender kiss to the tip. 

“See?” Victor said.

Yuri’s lips tangled up, like he wanted to refuse, but his desire to be perfect for Otabek eventually won out. “Fine. Show me how to do that.”

“Why don’t you get used to the taste, first,” Victor said. “Everyone’s a little different, but the general feel is similar.”

Yuri grimaced, staring at Yuuri’s semi-erect dick. He gave both of them a powerful glare.

“No one in the world hears about this. Ever.”

“We don’t kiss and tell,” Victor reassured. “Go on.”

Victor brought his hand to the back of Yuri’s neck, playing with his hair, before sliding down to squeeze his ass. Yuri only gave a half flinch before sinking forward. His mouth hovered an inch away, opening once, closing, and then finally he flicked his tongue out.

Victor chuckled, “What do you think?”

“… It just tastes like skin,” Yuri said.

“Mmhm,” Victor agreed. “Now, this time, instead of licking, think of the tip like a mochi ball. Use the flat of your tongue to pull it into your mouth.”

Yuri held the image in his head and leaned forward again.

“Use your hands to help,” Victor said, reaching and taking hold of the base of Yuuri’s cock to put it in a more comfortable position for Yuri. Yuri flushed like that should have occurred to him, but then Victor was slowly feeding Yuuri’s cock into his mouth and he went quiet as the weight of the tip settled on his tongue. 

“Close your lips around it. You don’t have to suck yet if you don’t want to, but let your mouth get used to the shape,” Victor said. 

For how eager Yuri had been with his ass, he was blushing riotously as his mouth settled around Yuuri. His eyes fluttered closed and his cheeks hollowed as he started to suckle and explore the contours. Victor was quiet, letting Yuri go at his own pace for a little while, just holding Yuuri in place and occasionally using his thumb to stroke his length. Yuri was, as always, stunningly beautiful in that uniquely nymphish way, and seeing him in such a typically deferential pose to Yuuri made Victor’s cock throb.

“Eh, Yurio,” Yuuri sighed. “Do that again with your tongue.” 

Yuri’s eyes opened, glaring at Yuuri, but he must have repeated whatever motion it was because Yuuri hummed in satisfaction. 

“That feels good,” Yuuri purred.

“Did he find your spot?” Victor asked.

“Mmm,” Yuuri affirmed. 

“A lot of people are sensitive there, just on the underside,” Victor said to Yuri. “It’s always one of the first places I try.”

Yuri looked like he had a snarky comment, but with his mouth full all he could do was give a stink eye.

“When you get Otabek in your mouth you’ll want to experiment with different techniques and locations. He’s not the most expressive person in the world, so you’ll need to pay extra attention to how his body responds to figure out what he likes best. Yuuri has one other place he likes. See if you can find it.”

Yuri nodded and studiously worked his mouth around. It took a minute, but his tongue eventually landed behind the ridge of Yuuri’s head, making Yuuri moan. Yuri smirked around the cock in his mouth and glanced at Victor.

“Perfect,” Victor praised. “Now, take a break; you don’t want to make your jaw cramp.” Yuri pulled off, licking his lips.

“Careful,” Victor said, reaching into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulling out a tiny container of lip balm. He swirled his finger in the jar and then brushed it along Yuri’s lips. “Your lips can get dried out very easily from all the saliva and friction, and chapped lips don’t feel very good.”

Yuri just knelt there, looking flustered - whether from sucking his first cock or Victor’s subsequent attentions, it was hard to say.

“Now watch me again,” Victor said. He held Yuuri steady, pushing his cock up, and brought the very tip of his tongue to the base, on the underside. Slowly, his tongue glided up, occasionally taking a moment to lick or swipe or tease. When he reached the tip his tongue flattened out, cradling that spongey tissue. He laved like a cat might: long, strong licks, and then abruptly turned his tongue into a point again and tendered the little slit in the head. 

“Victor!” Yuuri warned. 

Victor grinned, then held Yuuri’s dick out to Yuri. Yuri moved forward, face close to Victor’s, and licked along the underside. Victor joined him from the other side, tongues occasionally meeting as they explored the length of Yuuri’s dick. When they reached the tip again Victor kept his lips on the side of Yuuri’s cock, humming faintly, and watched as Yuri first flicked his tongue against Yuuri’s slit and then opened his mouth and brushed the edge of his teeth gently, ever so gently, along the ridge of the head. 

Yuuri shuddered and pushed them both back. Victor tightened his hand around Yuuri’s balls, pre-empting any orgasm.

Yuri looked rather pleased with himself, watching Yuuri struggle not to come.

“You should put something inside him while he works,” Yuuri said through grit teeth, so he wouldn’t be the only one trying to contain his pleasure. 

Victor’s eyes lit up. 

“Yes!” he rose to his feet. “Yuri, keep working on it. See what happens if you take more in your mouth.” And with that, Victor left the room.

Yuri pouted at his absence but turned dutifully back Yuuri. Grasping his cock, he wrapped his lips around it more confidently. Once he felt the thickness on his tongue, he tried letting it slide deeper.

“Careful or you’ll gag,” Yuuri said. “Take a breath, then go down, back up, and take another breath.”

Yuri listened to the advice but still wound up gagging almost instantly the moment Yuuri’s dick reached the back of his tongue. It wasn’t unpleasant for Yuuri - it made everything tighter around him - but he felt bad for Yuri. He knew how frustrated Yuri got when he wasn’t perfect.

“You don’t have to go deep,” Yuuri said. “You can combine this with your hand and make someone come, easy.” Yuri only bothered to glance up at Yuuri, expression cool, before his eyes closed again to better focus. Yuuri’s hands came back to Yuri’s hair, sifting through the blond strands, petting him as he worked. 

Yuri was taking in some two centimeters past the head. It felt endless, enormous, to the point Yuri found himself glad he wasn’t trying to suck off Victor. But he would do this.

He had to do this.

For Otabek.

Yuri breathed, then moved his head forward as far as he could. He felt the bump of Yuuri’s cock on the back of his throat and his body heaved. Yuri pulled almost all the way off, but forced himself to keep the head in his mouth, and then tried again. 

Victor walked in just as it happened again, his eyes widening in surprise.

“No one will ever doubt your determination,” Victor said, carrying a box of toys in his hands.

Yuri gagged again as he reached that point again, earning an empathic wince from Victor. “Yuri, take a break and strip down so I can play with you.”

Yuri almost looked regretful as Yuuri’s cock slipped out of his mouth, glimmering with saliva. He stood up, shimmying out of his pants and briefs, and then knelt on the pillow again, thighs spread and ass pushed backward as he recalled his previous lesson.

“Perfect,” Victor crooned. 

Yuuri curved his fingers around the shell of Yuri’s ear and down to his jaw, gently drawing him back to the task at hand. Yuuri held his cock out and for once, instead of glaring hatred at his rival, Yuri just let his lips open and accepted what Yuuri gave him. As Yuuri settled into Yuri’s mouth he shivered, whether for the physical sensation or the thrill of Yuri’s submission, it was hard to say.

The toy Victor had chosen was black and red, and looked like a tapered dildo with a strange S shape at the base instead of the flare a normal plug would have. 

“You’re giving him my Aneros?” Yuuri said, almost pouting, except that Victor could tell Yuri was starting to get into the blow job and Yuuri was more aroused than anything. 

“Just to see if he can handle it,” Victor said. “If he likes it we’ll get him his own.”

Victor lubed up a finger, which he brought between Yuri’s legs and circled over his asshole. Yuri’s body was tight all over again, so Victor spent a few minutes just warming up his ass, kneading the muscles and spreading his cheeks to get him used to manipulation. 

“Push out, Yuri,” Victor encouraged as he nestled the tip of his finger against Yuri’s entrance. Yuri glanced backward, mouth not leaving Yuuri’s dick, and Victor felt the muscle give. 

He slid his finger in, remembering how tense it had made Yuri last time, but Yuri kept his body pushing until Victor was in past his second knuckle. 

“Excellent,” Victor said, kissing Yuri’s shoulder. “You’ve already improved.”

Yuri’s lips twitched around Yuuri’s cock, like he might have smiled.

Victor didn’t thrust, opting instead to brush his finger around until he found Yuri’s prostate. Yuri groaned, and the vibrations in his throat made Yuuri shiver.

“When you hum, Yuuri can feel it,” Victor said, gently increasing and decreasing the pressure on Yuri’s nerves. 

Yuri tried to force more cock into his mouth, only to wind up gagging again. This elicited a fond chuckle from Victor: “He can feel when you gag, too.” 

Yuri managed to lift his lip up above his teeth in a snarl. 

Victor kissed his cheek. 

“Be nice. Don’t make me fuck you,” Victor whispered near his ear. 

Yuri’s whole body tightened at those words. He pressed back hard on Victor’s finger and moaned around his mouthful. A rhythm emerged, the bob of Yuri’s head matching the way his hips tensed and relaxed, pushing himself down on Victor’s finger — fingers? It felt thicker now. Better. 

Yuri’s hand tightened at the base of Yuuri’s dick, almost dripping with saliva now as Yuri sucked and licked and offered tantalizing grazes of his teeth. As he pulled away for a breath, he twirled his tongue the way Victor had taught him. 

“I’m close!” Yuuri gasped. His fingers tightened in Yuri’s hair and pulled him off. Yuri looked up at his rival, locking eyes with Yuuri, and then very slowly ran his tongue along his glistening lip before brushing the back of his hand across his mouth.

Yuuri came. 

“Unhh—“ Yuuri exclaimed, spurts of clearish-white landing on Yuri’s cheek, then his chest, and finally dripping to the floor. 

“Yuuri…” Victor purred in teasing disappointment. “Ts. Ts.”

Yuri, instead of looking furious or upset, smirked up at Yuuri like he’d won the grand prix all over again. Yuuri blushed bright red.

“Sorry,” he said.

Victor just grinned, wrapping his free arm around Yuri, still keeping up the rhythm inside of him. His tongue slid along Yuri’s cheek, lapping up the white streak there. 

“Victor,” Yuri warned. 

“Mmm?” Victor asked, kissing Yuri fully now. Yuri growled and returned the gesture, hard, his tongue sliding against Victor’s lips until they parted and Victor gave Yuri a taste of his triumph. Yuri’s hand wound up in Victor’s hair, tangling, and they both lost their breath to the kiss while Yuuri worked on getting his back.

Victor pulled away at last, but Yuri was still in a frenzy, still pressing against Victor’s fingers, riding them openly as his dick pulsed between his legs. 

“I guess we don’t need to work on your kissing,” Victor said. Yuri growled in affirmation and went to kiss Victor again, but Victor pulled back, teasing, and gave Yuri a lusty smile. “I know you just want me to fuck you. You’re doing an excellent job of seducing me.”

He slowly slid his fingers out of Yuri. “But I don’t come quite so quickly as Yuuri.”

“Fuck me,” Yuri said, and though it was supposed to be a command it came out more like begging.

“First things first,” Victor said, grabbing the toy and starting to slather it with lube. He brought it between Yuri’s legs and Yuri pushed himself back onto it without hesitation, taking the full length. It wasn’t a particularly long toy, but as it settled and the curve of the S rested under Yuri’s balls, his eyes went wide. 

“What—“ Yuri asked, amazed, and it was Yuuri’s turn to smirk. That S added a brilliant, gentle pressure to the stretch of skin below his balls, which balanced against the bulk of the buried toy. Even the subtle, unconscious flutters of Yuri’s muscles made the toy alternate pressure between those two delicious spaces.

“And it gets better. Try doing what I did with the skate guard,” Yuuri suggested. 

“Don’t get carried away,” Victor warned. “Or you might be disappointed when you go back to a real cock.”

Yuri angled his body forward, resting his hands on the wooden floor to steady himself. He bowed his head, tightening the muscles of his ass, and almost choked at the way it made the toy press right up against that spot Victor always pushed. He released and the pressure let up, replaced by a faint one on his taint, and then he was clenching again, blown away by the sensation.

Victor watched for several moments, brushing his fingertips idly along Yuri’s back as he tensed and released, tensed and released, every single motion driving the toy against his most sensitive places.

“ _Ahn_ ,” Yuri exclaimed, because he’d never felt anything like it before. Yuuri dropped down beside him, joining Victor in gently petting Yuri’s flush body. Yuri’s eyes were closed tight, his mouth open in a wince.

“Do you like it, _Kotënok_?” Victor asked, voice near Yuri’s ear again.

Yuri was too focused on the feelings to answer. Victor reached beneath him, felt his cock and the tension in his sac and slipped his finger into the other loop of the S, holding the toy still. 

“Easy,” Victor purred. “Easy.”

Victor slowly pulled the toy out of him, much to Yuri’s dismay. 

“Why?!” Yuri gasped. 

“You were about to come,” Victor said. “I can’t have both of you spent.” He smiled, then offered the toy to Yuuri. 

Yuuri debated cleanliness but ultimately was too overwhelmed at the sight of Yuri using his toy to resist. He took it from Victor, re-lubed it, and guided it into his body while Yuri stared with obvious jealousy. 

He audibly groaned at the sight. 

“Victor! You can’t give him that and then not fuck me!” Yuri said, pounding his fist against the cushion.

Victor laughed. 

“Are you going to be so demanding with Otabek? I thought you wanted to be his little doll. Dolls don’t make demands, you know.” 

“I will seduce him when I need him,” Yuri muttered.

“Ah,” Victor smiled. “Yuuri, why don’t you do your stretches. You always do better when you have something to motivate you.”

“Yes, coach,” Yuuri said, standing shakily. He trembled as he lifted his leg onto the ballet barre, the S rocking against him. 

Victor turned back to Yuri, “Now, something different for your lesson…”

He pulled another toy from the box, a silicon egg, and after lubing it held it up to Yuri’s backside. Yuri looked at it, curious, but then pushed back until he felt it between his cheeks. Victor held it steady and let Yuri do all the work. It was thicker than the toys Yuri had had before, but his body started to adapt, stretching out around the girth of the egg before it slipped inside of him, only a small string with a tiny ball at the end sticking outside him. 

“So you don’t feel empty,” Victor said. 

Yuri’s body tightened around the egg, savoring it. He blushed.

“What is it?” Victor asked.

“I love being full,” Yuri admitted. “I love thinking about how he will fill me.”

“Good,” Victor said, and with that he stood, lifting his shirt up and over his head and then sliding down his tights. He stepped out of them, laid them over the ballet barre, and then returned to Yuri in all his glory. Yuri had seen Victor naked more times than he thought possible - certainly more times than he ever wanted to - but he’d never been excited about it before. 

It had never made his mouth water. 

“Open,” Victor commanded gently, brushing Yuri’s cheek, and he did.

“Wider,” Victor said, getting a good grip on Yuri’s hair so he could help him into the proper angle, lining up his mouth and his throat. “Good.”

Yuri stared up at him, mouth agape, waiting.

“You wanted me to fuck you, so I’m going to try,” Victor said. “Sometimes it’s easier when the other person is in control, but push on my thighs if you need me to stop.”

He guided his cock down into Yuri’s mouth, sliding the first few centimeters over his tongue. 

“Don’t try to breathe when I go deep. Time it so that you can get your breath when I pull out,” Victor said as he began his rhythm. He wasn’t pushing towards Yuri’s throat yet, was just thrusting gently through the O of Yuri’s lips over and over again, enjoying the occasional play of Yuri’s tongue. 

“The most important thing is to relax, just like with your ass. I’m going to hit that place where you gagged again, and get you used to things touching it,” Victor said, watching as Yuri tried to line up his breathing with the pace Victor set. Yuri settled into it, and that’s when Victor bumped the back of his throat. Yuri tensed again, gagging, but by that time Victor had already pulled back. He didn’t give Yuri quite enough time to recover before he touched Yuri’s soft palate again, and slowly, eyes watering, Yuri started to adapt. He breathed between thrusts, and relaxed against every instinct as Victor moved towards his throat. 

“Okay so far?” Victor asked, and Yuri nodded faintly, lashes fluttering before he closed his eyes again. “You can practice this at home, with anything - maybe your toothbrush in the morning when you’re getting ready. The more you can practice, the better able you’ll be to control that reflex.”

Victor felt the tension seeping out of Yuri via the hand in his hair. He was acclimating to this new stimulus.

“Deep breath,” Victor said, and as he felt Yuri’s lungs fill he thrust farther, into Yuri’s throat.

Yuri pushed Victor away as he choked, coughing and grimacing. He hit his thigh with his fist, angry at himself for the reaction. 

“ _Blyad_!” he cursed.

Victor smiled to him. “You did very well. Like I said, it just takes practice.”

“I still can’t do it,” Yuuri admitted from where he was doing his straddle stretches, slowly humping against the toy inside of him. He had his blissed out expression - one Yuri was beginning to recognize. “But you don’t need it to make someone come.”

“You can’t do it?” Yuri echoed, because that made him want to do it all the more. 

“Victor likes my ass better anyway,” Yuuri shrugged.

“I want to try again,” Yuri said, hands clenching. He grabbed Victor’s hip, pulled him close, and swallowed as much of Victor’s cock as he could. 

“Easy!” Victor laughed, pulling back ever so slightly and again just rocking his cock back and forth into the vacuum of Yuri’s mouth. “You’ll certainly choke again that way. Remember, you have to relax.”

Yuri growled, taking Victor deeper, until Victor felt the back of Yuri’s throat. He felt the constrictions as Yuri gagged, but Yuri refused to pull off. He held himself in place, Victor’s cock at the back of his throat, forcing his body to deal with the discomfort. His eyes were watering again, his nose running, and there was saliva everywhere, but slowly, impossibly, the constrictions faded. Yuri pulled back just enough to breathe, taking a giant lungful of air, and then swallowed Victor once more. 

He tried to push himself farther this time, going past that initial point of gag, and found, startlingly, that that was the main barrier. Once he’d exhausted that reflex he simply…. 

“Yuri!” Victor gasped as Yuri’s lips kissed his pelvis, fully engulfing Victor’s cock. Yuri had just enough time to flash Victor a victorious smirk before his gag reflex came back with a vengeance and he was pulling off and hacking. 

“Hey, you okay?” Victor asked, kneeling down and laying an arm around Yuri’s shoulders. He grabbed his t-shirt and used it to wipe Yuri’s mouth and nose. “That’s enough for today. That was incredible.”

Yuri shivered, nestling into Victor’s arms in a brief and unexpected show of vulnerability.

“Fuck me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Victor agreed. He looked over at Yuuri, flush-faced and adorable. “Finish your stretch and come to bed.”

Yuri laid over Victor’s lap on the bed, sprawled lavishly across the sheets and looking alert and eager but oddly content. Victor scratched at Yuri’s scalp, weaving his fingers through his hair before petting down his back. 

“You really are a tiger,” Yuuri said as he joined them, and maybe it was the fact that Yuri had sucked his cock, but there wasn’t any biting remark in return. Yuri just rolled his shoulders, accepting the assessment, and stretched all the more luxuriously over Victor. 

“First, let’s get the egg out of you,” Victor said, hand finally making it to Yuri’s ass. Yuri rose up to his knees, one hand balancing on Victor’s shoulder, and pushed. 

“Let me see,” Yuuri said, crawling onto the bed, and Yuri raised his eyebrow but leaned forward slightly, braced on Victor, to give Yuri a better view. Victor had his fingers resting over Yuri’s entrance, splitting to either side as it began to widen with the bulk of the egg. It was fascinating to watch, the way the shape of it emerged, and then all at once it popped free into Victor’s palm. 

“Your turn, Yuuri,” Victor said, holding out his other hand. Yuuri pouted, but then came up right alongside Yuri, braced on Victor’s other shoulder. This toy wasn’t designed to be expelled, so Victor reached between Yuri’s legs and hooked his finger into the S. Yuuri shivered as Victor withdrew the toy, agonizingly slow. 

Victor found Yuri watching the process, intrigued - or perhaps remembering how the toy had felt inside of him. The toys were set in the wash box and then Victor looked between the pair of them. 

“Katsudon,” Yuri said, nudging Yuuri with his elbow before Victor could speak.

“Eh?” Yuuri asked. 

For a moment Yuri looked angry, though Victor couldn’t imagine at what. Then Yuri blushed, looking away. Without saying a word, he twisted his back to Yuuri, bending forward on his knees and bracing his hands on the sheets. His toes were pointed, his form relaxed, and he gazed over his shoulder at long last, an almost shy expression on his face as he beckoned Yuuri to take him.

It was a beautiful offering, the pale breadth of his back flowing downward to his ass, which he’d accentuated by widening his knees. His pale hair hung around his face, tousled from Victor’s handling, and yet he still managed to look sensuously composed.

“Yuri…” Yuuri murmured. He moved between Yuri’s legs, stroking Yuri’s toned back, and Victor was there with the lube to glaze over Yuuri’s length. Yuuri shivered, resting his hands on Yuri’s hips, and then gently nudged inward. 

“Nnh,” Yuri said as he was filled, head bowing between his arms. He tightened up, but only once, and only briefly, and then he was relaxing. 

“You okay?” Victor asked, hands still lingering on Yuri’s back. 

Yuri nodded, and as Yuuri adopted a steady pace, Yuri collapsed down, chest flushed to the sheets while his ass pressed up into the air.

“You’re doing so well,” Victor smiled down to Yuri, voice just a whisper. 

“For him,” Yuri murmured. “It’s for him.”

“He is lucky.”

That made Yuri smile, twisting his head to the side to gaze at Victor while Yuuri fucked him. Yuuri was more consistent with his thrusts than Victor. They weren’t as powerful or staccato, but rather a constant, steady undulating, in and out, in and out, in and out, like ocean waves. It was almost soothing, and Yuri found himself simultaneously relaxed and aroused underneath Yuuri. 

“Does he fuck you?” Yuri asked, voice soft.

“Mhmm,” Victor said.

“Like this?” 

“Unless I’ve been teasing him; then he’s more vengeful,” Victor said. “But this is how Yuuri likes to fuck. This is where he has his stamina. He’s taken me for over a half hour like this, always moving.”

Yuri found himself enjoying that idea. 

Yuuri gazed down at Victor, and Victor gave him a look of unbounded adoration before he slipped back into his cool and collected coach mode. 

“Victor,” Yuri said. “I want to try one more time.”

Yuri slowly lifted himself back onto his hands and knees, letting his lips part and his tongue hover just inside them, all but begging for Victor. Victor, too aroused from watching Yuuri, couldn’t resist, and rose up to his knees. He scooted close to Yuri, then held his cock out. Yuri nuzzled the aching flesh before opening his mouth and taking it in.

“Your mouth and your throat are better aligned in this position,” Victor said. “It should be easier like this.”

Yuri hummed, too soft to be audible but powerful enough for Victor to feel. He watched his husband fuck into Yuri’s body and adopted that rhythm as he did the same, albeit at his mouth instead of his ass. Yuuri’s eyes were on Victor as well, teal and brown locked together, each watching the pleasure in the other.

Yuuri bowed over, bracing a hand on Yuri’s back, and Victor leaned in until their lips clashed together. They shared a kiss while they shared Yuri’s body, each enjoying the warmth and the wet and the tightness in their own way. 

True to form, Yuuri didn’t tire. His rhythm never slowed or hastened or broke down, and the three were lost to time, gyrating and kissing and fucking. The slick sounds of sex filled the apartment and the bed creaked amicably with their motions. After eternity, Victor finally pulled back, out of Yuri’s mouth, and rubbed his jaw to sooth the ache that had to have set in. Yuri gave Victor’s cock one last parting lick, confused as Victor moved away. After all, he hadn’t come, though Yuri had felt in the way Victor’s length pulsed how close he was.

Yuri had to arc his head over his shoulder to follow Victor. He came up behind Yuuri, arms around his chest, flicking his nipples, scraping his abdomen. Then he bent Yuuri farther over and knelt behind him. 

Was he….? 

Yuri felt the first thrust that came from both of them. It made him crumple onto his chest again, ass high, and gasp. It was Victor’s incredible power pushed through Yuuri, the two of them somehow navigating the rhythm and syncing up perfectly. Yuri swooned. Victor fucked Yuuri, Yuuri fucked him, and it was all he could do to keep his ass in the air.

Small noises kept escaping from Yuri’s throat, little groans and whimpers as he was taken. It was the most perfect feeling, both of their energies flowing into him, both of them enjoying him. 

He wanted nothing more than to be enjoyed.

He closed his eyes and imagined Otabek behind him. Otabek’s strength and solidity and stoic force. Perhaps this was close to what Otabek would feel like: powerful, like Victor, but steadier, like Yuuri. 

“Otabek,” he moaned, fingers tangling in the sheets. Otabek would come back from the rink and Yuri would be there, posed on the bed. Otabek would unzip his fly, not removing anything more than necessary, and push Yuri down. Yuri would writhe, not quite trying to get away but ensuring Otabek had to be forceful with him. Otabek would capture his hips, hold him still, and then thrust.

Otabek would fuck him, and it would feel like magic. It would feel perfect. And Yuri would learn how to control his ass like Yuuri so he could make it so good for him. Otabek would rut into him, his cock sinking deep, over and over and —

“Ah!” 

Yuri’s eyes flew open, because Yuuri was coming above him, inside of him, but Yuri hadn’t quite reached his peek yet. 

“No!” he gasped, so close, so incredibly close. 

Yuuri shuddered, Victor inside of him too much to handle. Victor had his lip between his teeth, looking like he might come too, but instead he pulled out of Yuuri, kissed him, and just like Yuri had imagined, Victor pushed Yuuri down on the bed. 

“Yuri,” Victor said, gesturing to the panting boy. “Your turn to be in the middle.”

Yuuri, even spent, was aware enough to push his glasses back up and lift his legs. He was pinkish everywhere, cock red even as it softened, and Yuri was surprised at how much he wanted to fuck him. 

He slid into Yuuri’s body, then held still as Victor came up behind him. Victor was bigger than Yuuri, but Yuuri had loosened him up so thoroughly that it didn’t add any discomfort. Just stretched him. Made him feel even more full. Made it so, so much better.

Victor started the rhythm, using Yuri like an over-sized sheath to help him fuck into Yuuri, but after a few moments Yuri moved independently, thrusting just before Victor. The combination of Yuuri’s body around his cock and Victor’s cock inside his body was too much.

“I’m too close,” Yuri gasped. 

“Enjoy it,” Victor said, and he brought his hand down across Yuri’s ass in a sharp smack. 

That was all it took. 

Yuri’s body tightened up, emptying into Yuuri, and Victor was thrusting directly against his prostate the entire time that he shuddered through his orgasm. Over and over and over again the waves of pleasure crashed through him, making him sputter. He wound up lying atop Yuuri, their legs tangled, arms loosely around Yuuri while Yuuri held him in an exhausted embrace. 

Victor used his body just a little bit longer, only coming when he knew his boys were taken care of. For the second time, he filled Yuri’s body, then somehow managed to clean everyone up before he tucked them all under the sheets. Yuri was already almost asleep, head pillows on Yuuri’s chest, and Victor laid his arm across them both as they curled together to rest.


	3. Substitute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Procrastinating on a giant project with this, meaning I'm not dedicating as much time to editing. Sorry for the quality dip. Sorry for going off the rails. Lots of sorries!

“Oh… Victor’s not here,” Yuuri said. “You look nervous.”

“I don’t have much time left,” Yuri growled, looking around the apartment like he expected Victor to pop out at any moment. “I need to see if I can take him dry.”

Yuri paced behind the couch, then back again, making fists of his hands.

“He doesn’t think you’re ready yet,” Yuuri said, going to the kitchen on instinct. “Water? Wine?”

“Shots,” Yuri said. “That sweet stuff — wait, how do you know?!”

Yuuri returned with two glasses and a bottle of lychee sake. 

“We talk about you,” Yuuri said as he sat at the couch. “Victor asked me what he should teach you next.” He poured the two shots, then held his up to Yuri. “To Otabek?”

Yuri smirked. “To Otabek.” He swallowed it, then set the glass down and tapped a finger for another. “What did you say?”

“I said I thought you were ready for the test,” Yuuri said. “He disagreed.”

“I’ll show him,” Yuri growled. 

Yuuri eyed him, pouring a second round of shots. “He won’t be back for awhile yet.”

Yuri sat down beside Yuuri at last, worming out of his jacket and grabbing the shot glass again. “OK Katsudon,” he said, looking at Yuuri with an odd overtone before he lifted the glass. “ _Za tebja_.”

“What’s that mean?” Yuuri asked, touching his glass to Yuri’s. 

“It means, to you,” Yuri said after he’d swallowed down the liquor, barely making a face as it burned down his throat. He needed it. 

“To me?” 

“Mmm,” Yuri said. “I want to try it. With you.”

Yuuri blushed, touching the frame of his glasses. “Dry?”

Yuri answered with his eyes, steely determination as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. 

“You have to ask, you know,” Yuuri said, something about the warmth in his belly helping him stay collected.

Yuri, not missing a beat, crawled into Yuuri’s lap. 

“Yuuri,” Yuri said, and he intoned it the way Victor did, pitching his voice up slightly, their accents near identical. It made Yuuri shudder, though he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. “Where’s your Eros?”

And perhaps it was the incoming alcohol, or perhaps it was Yuri in his lap, but that challenge stoked something deep inside him. He didn’t want Yuri playing Victor. _He_ would play Victor tonight.

Yuuri wrapped an arm around Yuri’s waist, pulling him down flush into his lap. He took his glasses off, setting them beside the sake, and Yuri completed the look by threading his fingers through Yuuri’s hair and pushing it back from his face. Eros was something Yuuri had practiced throughout the year. Something Victor had trained him in extensively. 

Yuri’s hips angled against Yuuri’s, finding the best point of pressure, and never once did he look away.

“Now, for you,” Yuuri said, his eyes trailing up Yuri’s body as he recalled their past sessions and all the little things that had excited him, “that means agape. Is that what you’ll be? A delicate little doll?” 

Yuri colored but fell into that persona with ease, lashes fluttering as he turned his head to the side, showing off the pristine length of his neck and the feminine softness of his features. He went demure for a moment, nestling his nose against Yuuri’s cheek.

Showing his willingness to submit, if Yuuri desired. 

And Yuuri - or at least, Yuuri with the promise of two shots inside him - did. 

He held Yuri’s body against him as he rose to his knees. Yuri weighed so little, tiny waif, that it almost felt like cradling a cloud before he laid Yuri’s body out on the couch. Yuri gazed up at him, like he would do anything for him, and Yuuri felt all the more intoxicated for that power. His hand roved over Yuri’s body, staking his claim. He started at his cheek, fingers grazing Yuri’s lips, pulling at the soft pink petals, and then moving down to his throat. Yuri’s eyes closed on instinct as that vulnerable flesh was encased in Yuri’s hand, shivering, and then Yuuri continued down. 

“A doll doesn’t need these,” Yuuri said as his fingertips encountered the waist of his pants. “Take them off.” 

Yuri hadn’t seen Yuuri like this before, not really, though it reminded him vaguely of how confident Yuuri had been at the banquet: drunk, dancing, leading. He ducked his gaze away from Yuuri, like playing shy, and eased a single hand down towards his pants. His cheeks bloomed red as he unbuttoned and unzipped them, and he flit his eyes to Yuuri’s.

“Go on,” Yuuri said. “It’s just you and me.” 

Yuri tendered his bottom lip as he slid them off, tossed somewhere beyond the couch. 

“…what about these?” Yuri asked in a soft voice, his palm resting over his briefs, lightly cupping himself like he was embarrassed. 

“I get to decide how to dress my doll,” Yuuri said. He took Yuri’s wrist and tried to pull the hand away, but there was resistance. Yuri curled slightly, emphasizing his vulnerability. 

“Be a good doll,” Yuuri chided, and he squeezed the tendons in Yuri’s wrist until his hand popped free. “Take them off for me. How else can I give you what you need?”

Yuri’s normally pale cheeks went flush at those words. He whimpered as his hands came back between his legs, thumbs catching in the soft material and guiding it off his hips. His head stayed tilted away, like he couldn’t bear the shame of Yuuri seeing his nudity, but the aching flush he revealed as he stripped said otherwise. 

As the material came over his feet he pointed his toes, legs tucking towards his chest with prima ballerina grace. Yuuri caught one of his ankles, guiding it back, back, until it was alongside Yuri’s head and his straightened leg was flush to his chest in a gorgeous stretch.

“Such well-oiled joints on you, little doll,” Yuuri said, holding Yuri’s leg in position while he traced a finger down the underside of it. He followed Yuri’s achilles tendon, brushing behind his knee and then gliding along the bottom of his thigh. Yuri’s muscles twitched, the sensation unbearable with his sensitivity, but he didn’t pull away. He gazed at Yuuri from beneath the safety of his bangs and could hardly recognize the confident dom above him. 

When Yuuri’s finger reached the curve of Yuri’s ass he turned it inward, swooping up between his legs and stopping as he met the tarnished pucker of skin. “I can’t wait to play with you.” 

He released his hold on Yuri’s ankle, letting him unfurl, which Yuri did with practiced steadiness. Yuuri guided Yuri onto his side, bending over and stroking Yuri’s hair. “Rest, little doll, while I use you.” 

Yuri shivered, letting his limbs relax in a loose fetal position with his head on one of the pillows.

“Beautiful,” Yuuri said, standing. After lifting off his shirt he poured two more shots. He held one out to Yuri, who took it so elegantly, like the gesture of nobility. “ _Za tebja_ ,” Yuuri said, “and the way you’ll feel around me.” 

Yuuri drank quickly, Yuri watching him, and only when Yuuri was done did Yuri tip his glass back. 

“Good little doll,” Yuuri said, pressing tingling lips to Yuri’s. He set the glasses aside, drew down the zip of his pants as he watched Yuri’s form - lightly trembling, either from the temperature or in anticipation. Whichever it was, Yuuri would address it soon. 

The last thing he did before climbing back onto the couch was take a tiny napkin from the side table. Unfolding it, he brought it to Yuri’s palm and pushed the napkin firmly agains this skin. He waited until Yuri’s fingers closed around it, then whispered, braced over him. 

“If you don’t want to be a doll,” Yuuri whispered, “drop this, and it ends.”

And Yuri’s fingers curled all the tighter around it. 

Yuuri’s hand soaked up Yuri’s body as it trailed up Yuri’s arm, across his side, along his back, and around to his ass. Yuri was still acting shy, still had one hand curled between his legs, cupping his hardened length, though he wasn’t stroking or touching. 

“Give all of yourself to me, little doll,” Yuuri said. “You’re mine to play with.” 

Yuri whimpered, curling tighter against the command. “Please,” he whimpered. 

“Give yourself to me,” Yuuri said, tone stronger now, and his nails came out to press into Yuri’s thigh. With a mewl, Yuri’s fingers dropped away from his length. 

“Good little doll,” Yuuri praised, and he used the backs of his fingers to give a few gentle caresses to the exposed flesh. Yuri’s cock leapt at the affection, arching up towards Yuuri’s hand. “So eager… begging to be played with.”

His fingers moved on, traveling along Yuri’s topmost leg until they reached his ankle. Once more, he wrapped his hand around it and guided the knee to bend, bringing it closer to Yuri’s chest, curling him more tightly but also exposing his ass and erection. Yuri stayed exactly as he was positioned, save for a tremble when Yuuri’s hand came between his legs to take inventory. Yuuri had never really fondled him before, the touch oblivious to Yuri’s shame, or perhaps intentionally exacerbating it. 

“Such a detailed little doll,” Yuuri mused, curling a fist around him and stroking. He explored near the base of his cock, feeling the heat between Yuri’s legs. “So smooth still.” 

Yuri just whimpered in response, pliant, even if his breathing was fast.

Yuuri’s other hand pulled himself free of pants and underwear, no question as to his readiness. Yuri’s lips parted at the sight, tongue a pink sliver.

“Is this what you need, little doll?” Yuuri asked. Yuri blushed again and buried his face into the pillow, but his legs tucked a little bit higher, offering his body, and his cock bounced with a powerful surge of blood.

Yuuri bowed over him, aligning himself. 

It was strange, dry. It would have been worse if either of them were sweaty, if the skin was damp and inclined to stick together, but dry it was just like caressing with any other part of the body. 

The resistance felt so good against Yuuri as he increased the pressure. 

“Let me in, little doll,” Yuuri whispered. 

Yuri shifted. Yuuri watched the rise and fall of his chest: a deep breath, and then, as he exhaled, the resistance faded and Yuuri felt the muscle open around him. 

He let out a noise - gasp, moan, something in between, as he was able to sink into Yuri. All the way in, just like that. His cock spread open Yuri’s body and only when he was settled did he feel the tension and release as Yuri battled with the sensation of being invaded. Yuuri stayed there, idly touching Yuri’s body the way that Victor always did to Yuuri when he knew he was pushing him. He waited until the clenching slowed, then picked a rhythm.

It didn’t allow Yuri much time to adapt. Yuuri pulled nearly all the way out, Yuri’s body providing a faint layer of gloss as he pushed back inside. There was no ramp up. No ease in. One moment he was still, and the next he was like an engine. It was his normal pattern: constant motion, seamlessly going from thrust to withdrawal. And it felt incredible. 

And Yuri was handling it. Not just handling it - loving it. It was such a soothing position, like he was curled up in bed receiving the most intimate massage. 

“Such a perfect doll,” Yuuri said, grabbing Yuri’s ankle again and lifting it until Yuri’s leg was at full extension along Yuuri’s chest. It opened his body and Yuuri was able to thrust deeper, rewarded by a clench as he hit that sweet spot inside of Yuri. 

“Nn!” Yuri gasped, toes curling. He looked like he was in a daze, gazing slack-jawed and far-eyed as he was taken. 

Imagining Otabek, Yuuri assumed. 

And that made him thrust harder. 

He lifted Yuri’s other leg, twisting him onto his back in the process, and then pushed both of Yuri’s thighs down flush to his chest, crimping him in half.

Yuri could hold the position, easily in fact, but he cried out with how deep Yuuri suddenly went, and with a force he hadn’t felt before. Yuuri looked possessed, someone else entirely.

And Yuri took it all.

They cycled through more positions, Yuuri never losing his seat inside of Yuri. Clocks ticked, time passed, and Yuuri’s blessed stamina was unquestionable. He felt the drag of Yuri’s body around him, pummeled into the soft, hot velvet. He posed and repositioned his doll however he wanted him, utilizing that gorgeous body to the best of his ability. He draped Yuri over the arm of the couch, had him falling off the edge of it, pinned him to the back of it. And unlike Victor, this fuck was a slow burn, building up over time so gradually that Yuri didn’t know he was going crazy until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Yuuri wound up spooned around Yuri, both lying on their sides, surrounded by the scent of shampoo and sex, deodorant and sweat. Yuuri’s thrusts never diminished, and Yuri was whimpering constantly now. Between his legs he was rock solid, red and aching. 

“Please,” Yuri started to beg. 

“Please.”

Yuuri had grabbed his wrist when he went to touch himself, and now their fingers were laced together, leaving Yuri with no means of release but the motions inside of him. 

“Do you need to come, little doll?” Yuuri asked, a breathy whisper by Yuri’s ear.

“ _Please_ ,” Yuri asked, and Yuuri had never heard him sound so desperate. 

“Do you need me to hit that place inside you?” Yuuri asked.

Switched his angle until Yuri screamed.

“Here?” Yuuri said. 

“Yes! Yes! Please!” Yuri wailed. His knuckles were white stones balanced on peach supports scraping at the cushions. “Please! Please! Please!” With every thrust.

Right there. Again, Again. Harder. Harder. His rhythm was in ruins, decayed into a manic frenzy of pleasure-seeking.

“ _YES!_ ” 

They came together, both bodies going taught, one after the other and each with their own crippling shudder. Yuuri’s arm was like a vice around Yuri, and Yuri was all but sobbing at the pleasure of it. The earth might well have opened up beneath them for all they were aware, lost to the echoes of their orgasms.

Quiet.

Yuuri stirred first, lifting himself up on one wobbling arm so he could see Yuri’s face. He caressed his cheek, used his thumb to wipe the tears in the corners of Yuri’s eyes, and then found the hand with the napkin. Yuri was still in a daze, staring off somewhere far away.

Gently - ever so gently - Yuuri pried Yuri’s fingers open and scooped the damp, ruined paper from it. He crumpled it on the table, then draped the blanket from the back of the couch over them as he cuddled Yuri close.

“Are you OK, Yuri?” Yuuri asked, using a pillow to stay propped up so he wouldn’t lose sight of Yuri’s face. He used his hand to stroke Yuri’s side, pet his hair, anything to slowly bring him back to the present.

Yuri’s eyes regained focus. He twisted, decoupling them, until he was facing Yuuri. Yuuri searched his eyes, trying to read what Yuri was feeling. 

But Yuri didn’t say anything, just nosed under Yuuri’s chin. 

“Talk to me,” Yuuri said, voice little more than a whisper. “Was that too much for you?”

Yuri’s head shook back and forth. 

“Did I push you too far?”

Another shake of his head. 

“Was that the first time you’ve ever played that way?” 

A nod. 

“It can be intense, can’t it? But I’m here for you, you can come back now,” Yuuri said, kissing Yuri’s hair. 

“But if you need to stay quiet, that’s OK too,” came Victor’s voice. 

Both of them shot up, staring in surprise. 

“Victor?!” Yuuri said. “How long have you been here?!”

“A very long time,” Victor grinned. “You were completely obsessed with each other, did you know that?” 

He came over to the couch and kissed each of them. Yuri was still blinking, trying to recompose himself. 

“I’m sorry to startle you,” Victor said. “Do you want me to leave?”

Yuri glared at him, like maybe the answer was yes, but ultimately shook his head. 

That was when Victor’s smile turned into a surprised chuckle. “Oh… Yuri… you enjoyed that a lot, didn’t you?” And he lifted a lock of Yuri’s hair, showing off the sticky strand of come mixed into it. 

Yuri blushed. 

“I’ll prepare a bath for you,” Victor said. “And you two can clean up while I make dinner.”

And with that, he disappeared. 

Yuri still pressed close to Yuuri, going so far as to crawl back into his lap now that they were sitting up. He rested his head against Yuuri’s, lost to thought. 

“Is there anything else you need?” Yuuri asked. Yuri seemed to actually pause and consider, then turned around, found the sake and the glasses. He poured one for each of them.

“ _Spasibo_ ,” he whispered.

“ _Hai_ ,” Yuuri said with a bow.

And they drank.


	4. Tying Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy smuck we hit 300 kudos???? 
> 
> Y'all that's cray. I'm glad you enjoy. 
> 
> ... also I switched to using cum for the noun and come for the verb, for the sake of my sanity in this chapter.

Yuuri used a dry hand cloth to get the worst of the cum out of Yuri’s hair, then climbed into the bathtub behind him and washed his hair properly. Yuri was still demure, quiet and thoughtful and pliable as Yuuri poured cupfuls of water over him and then started to shampoo. His fingers scritched across Yuri’s scalp, humming under his breath. 

“You’re off key,” Yuri grumbled, and Yuuri grinned not because of what he said, but because it sounded like old Yuri back again. 

“You try it,” Yuuri teased in return.

Yuri just growled, crossing his arms. 

“Feeling yourself again?” Yuuri followed up. “Close your eyes,” as he poured more water over his head to rinse the shampoo out.

“How do you two do that all the time?”

“We don’t,” Yuuri said. “It takes a lot out of you, doesn’t it?” 

“I’ll do it for Otabek as often as he wants.”

Yuuri shook his head with a smile. “Have you talked to him about any of this? What you want?” 

Yuri’s crossed arms tightened up. Staring at the water, he didn’t respond, which was response enough.

“He clearly means the world to you, to do all this for him,” Yuuri said. 

“He’s perfect,” Yuri said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He deserves perfection.”

“Well,” Yuuri smiled, “if you ever need to be a little less perfect, Victor and I are here for you.”

Yuri snorted. He waved his hands through the water, making little patterns. Back to his normal self. Too strong to talk about the softer things in life.

“I want something to keep inside me,” he said after a moment.

“Oh, a toy?”

“Mm.”

Yuuri reached into the soapy water, touching Yuri’s ass, and when he didn’t move away slipped a finger easily into his body. “You’re open enough, we could put a rather big one into you right now that could stay overnight, and give you a smaller one to switch out with tomorrow if you want it in you when you go out.”

Yuri’s body gripped onto Yuuri’s finger, and he sighed at the idea of it, nodding. 

“It will still feel good for him, right?” Yuri asked. “Tight?”

“Yes,” Yuuri said, withdrawing his finger. “Just don’t use the big one before you go to him. It’s usually best for after you’ve been fucked, anyways.”

“Why?”

Yuuri shrugged, washing his own hair and scrubbing down his body. “You’re already loosened up, so it goes in easier, and it keeps the cum inside you, if you’re into that, or if you don’t want it sliding out in the middle of something important.”

Yuri suddenly went bright red. “That’s what that was.” His shoulders hunched. 

Yuuri laughed. “Did you freak out when it came out?”

“It was cold and gross. … And brownish.”

“Can’t help that.”

Yuri twisted around to look at him, holding out his arm to be scrubbed. Yuuri, bemused, took the offer and started to wash Yuri as well. Even as he did, he saw there was something in Yuri’s eyes he still wanted. 

“… Do you like feeling that stuff in you?” Yuri finally asked.

“The cum?” Yuuri asked. “I mean, you can’t really _feel_ it. It’s more the idea.”

“You like that?”

Yuuri blushed. “Yes.” 

Yuri considered. “… Me too.” He got shy for just a moment after admitting it, but then, emboldened by Yuuri’s encouraging smile, continued: “It’s like claiming me.”

“Yes,” Yuuri sighed. “Belonging to someone. But also taking care of them. Carrying a piece of them with you.” He set his hand on Yuri’s thigh beneath the water, leaning over with a grin. “Do you like carrying me in you now?”

Yuri growled, like he didn’t want to admit it. He turned away from Yuuri, which only inspired Yuuri to wash his back, then muttered under his breath, “I like belonging to you.”

Yuuri didn’t expect the swell of pride that evoked.

“Soon you'll belong to someone else, if everything works out,” he encouraged, reaching behind him to pull the stopper from the tub. He stood up, turning on the shower briefly to rinse everything off of him, then stepped out. “You really should talk to him, though. It’ll be even better.”

“It will work out,” Yuri said, standing and scrubbing himself more thoroughly in the shower. Yuuri let him go and disappeared to change. By the time Yuri got out there were two toys on the counter, a tube of lube, and a stack of clothes.

“What do you think of this one?” Yuuri asked. It was roughly Victor’s size, though abstract - a domed cylinder in bright red with a discreet flair. “Want to try?”

Yuri toweled off his hair and body, eyeing the toy, and answered by bending in half over the counter. 

Yuuri lubed up the toy and held it out to Yuri, but he just snorted and nodded over his shoulder. Yuuri really should have known.

He dipped a finger into Yuri again, just to check, and then brought the toy to his ass. It slid in with only slight resistance, and Yuuri took it slow, rubbing the small of Yuri’s back as inch after inch disappeared into his body. When his ass finally closed around the narrow neck, Yuuri gave it a little jostle to make sure it was seated. 

“Good?”

“Full,” Yuri said, voice lacquered with contentment. He stood up carefully, lifting each leg and tucking his pelvis to see how it felt. “Good.”

“Good,” Yuuri said, and left him alone to get dressed.

—

As soon as Yuuri emerged from the bathroom, Victor was there, trapping Yuuri against the wall.

“ _That_ ,” Victor said, face terribly close to Yuuri’s, “was so incredibly hot.” His hands came to Yuuri’s waist. 

“Do you know what it’s like,” Victor continued, dropping kisses on Yuuri’s neck, “to come home,” more kisses, “and see my beautiful” kiss “sexy” kiss “kind husband” kiss kiss kiss “- who I am going to _fuck_ ” hands under his shirt “ _so hard_ —“

“Victor!” Yuuri giggled, squirming underneath all of the affection.

“— domming that gorgeous tiger,” grinning as he felt Yuuri’s laughter, “so well” kiss “and so attentively —”

“Victor!” Louder, laughing, clasping Victor’s face in his hands and kissing him quiet, slow and tender and embarrassed and fond. 

Victor shut up, just grinning at Yuuri even after the kiss, gazing into his eyes with an overwhelming amount of adoration. Their faces were so close, able to feel the soft puffs of heat as they breathed, the love tangible in the air between them. It fed both of them, plants soaking up the rays of sunlight, the brightness so powerful Yuuri eventually blushed and gazed down. 

“You aren’t upset at all?” Yuuri asked, tucking his lower lip under. “I wanted to text you to ask, but Yuri…”

“Was Yuri?” Victor smiled, using his thumb to free Yuuri’s lip. He kissed Yuuri’s forehead. “This is exactly the reason I said use your best judgment if something happens in the moment. We’ve had sex with him before. He’s someone I know you feel safe with, and I feel the same way. You did exactly what I’d have wanted you to do. ” 

Yuuri blushed, then wrapped Victor in the tightest hug. 

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. 

“My husband,” Victor purred, sidling up close enough that Yuuri could feel the bulge in his pants, “I _guarantee_ you, I should be doing the thanking.” 

With his worry assuaged, Yuuri’s lips curled up into a smirk, “Then, my husband, you’ll just have to thank me later.” 

And with that he flicked his head to the side and strode towards the kitchen, grinning as he heard Victor’s lusty growl in his wake. 

—

Exhaustion must have finally hit Yuri. He didn’t even make it to dinner, instead curling up in the bed as he emerged from the bathroom. By the time Victor and Yuuri were finished, the rise and fall of his chest had evened out in sleep.

“You really wore him out,” Victor mused.

“Stamina,” Yuuri shrugged, but with a soft smile after. He was proud that he’d been able to satisfy Yuri so thoroughly, and on his own, without Victor’s guidance.

“Any left for me?” Victor asked.

“For you?” Yuuri paused like it was something he had to consider. Then: “Always.”

“We’ll have to be quiet so we don't wake him,” Victor said as he loaded the dishwasher. “You know how loud you can be.”

“I can be quiet!”

“Maybe I should gag you, just to be sure,” Victor grinned. He gave Yuuri - now blushing - a quick wink before quietly collecting a box from beneath the bed. He gestured Yuuri to the practice room and closed the door behind them so as not to wake Yuri. Holding out a palm, he tested the temperature of the air, and then turned the heat up a degree. 

When Yuuri saw which box Victor had picked his blush came back again. 

Victor caught the expression and his grin widened, laying out the tatami mats they stored for guests and drawing a thick blanket over them.

Victor needed only to cant his head towards the mat and Yuuri obliged, stepping to the border of their play space. He waited there for Victor while Victor came around behind him, kissed his neck, and started to undress him. It was gentle and tender, filled more with affection than lust. It was the kindness before the real game began. 

Yuuri lifted his arms so the shirt could come off, stepped out of his pants and underwear. Victor continued to touch him, palm roaming over his skin, checking for the textured flesh that would mean Yuuri was too cold, or the tension that would signify his hesitation to play. But Victor found none of those, only Yuuri’s calm, steady breathing and the occasional twitch of his cock. 

Readiness.

“Kneel,” Victor whispered, and Yuuri did. He knelt at the center of the mat, ass resting on his heels, palms on his knees. His eyes closed reflexively, sinking into the calm of this particular play. 

Victor’s fingers brushed over Yuuri’s lips, damp with balm, and Yuuri stayed still as they were coated. The next thing he felt was a soft cloth brushing against his cheek; his mouth opened, and the cloth slipped into it, wound around a semi-soft ball that pressed Yuuri’s tongue down. The gag was tied behind Yuuri’s head and Victor fawned over the device for a moment, ensuring Yuuri’s comfort. 

“There,” Victor whispered. “How is that?” 

“Mm,” came Yuuri’s muffled affirmation. 

The next cloth brushed against the side of Yuuri’s eye, then fell over them. This, too, was tied behind Yuuri’s head, and then Victor’s thumbs followed the cloth, brushing over Yuuri’s eyes and then his temples. 

“And this?”

“Mm.”

Yuuri blinked but couldn’t see a thing. He was in Victor’s world now.

He felt Victor’s body heat behind him, the soft whisper of Victor’s shirt fluttering against his back and the tips of Victor’s fingers on his shoulders, smoothing down his arms to his wrists. 

The next touch wasn’t cloth, but rope, still soft, but the subtle scratch of it sent a shiver down Yuuri’s spine. 

‘Think of it like a costume,’ Victor had said, the first time they tried it. His knots had been too loose or too tight, and it had been silly and exploratory and filled with giggles. ‘I’m just helping you get dressed.’ 

At the end of it Yuuri’s body had been an awkward crosshatch of rope marks, red diamonds stretched across his chest and back and his ass red from Victor’s palm. 

But the next time Victor had researched more, and practiced more. None of the knots unfurled and they only had to stop twice to adjust the tightness. He’d tried a more complex pattern, and he’d fucked Yuuri at the end of it while he was restrained, hardly able to move at all. That feeling had been indescribable - so fully and completely at Victor’s mercy. It had taken Yuuri days to fully come down from that session. 

In the times since, Victor had only improved. He’d learned where to put his knots so that their pressure had the greatest effect on Yuuri, and integrated some of the aesthetics he used on the ice into the sculptural beauty he carved out of Yuuri’s body. 

Yuuri was fully hard now, but he knew it would be a while before he got that attention. This game was always slow, and Victor prided himself in how long he could keep Yuuri on edge.

“There it is,” Victor said, quiet still, like he’d found the picture he wanted to make. 

Yuuri let his arm go limp as Victor took his wrist. The rope coiled around it, serpentine and firm, and Yuuri sank into the restraint. It was strange, what the ropes did to him. Saying ‘surrender’ didn’t do justice to the nuance of the feel. It was real, but it felt like a dream, a suspension of time and space and reality, or a narrowing of it, down to just him and Victor. 

“Mmf.” - a soft, muffled noise as the next rope twined around his thigh, anchored to his waist. It forced him to sit up on his knees, no longer resting on his heels, and Victor’s guiding palm between his legs helped him spread his body open. 

“Good,” Victor whispered. “You okay?” 

Yuuri nodded, though he nestled quickly into Victor’s palm when it came to his cheek. Victor paused his roping to wrap an arm around Yuuri’s waist, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re beautiful.”

“Mmm…” and Yuuri exhaled, so soothed by Victor’s assurance. 

Once satisfied with Yuuri’s comfort, Victor continued. Yuuri moved as guided, his body slowly transformed and bent under Victor’s binds. Once Victor had the basic framework on Yuuri’s torso - that familiar diamond scale pattern - he tied off Yuuri’s wrist, bent behind his back, and wrapped his second wrist. This one, instead of folding, he extended, and laid Yuuri down carefully so he could pull a leg free as well, until ankle met wrist. 

_It’s a sit spin_ , Yuuri realized, distantly. Only with one arm bound back. Sure enough, Victor wrapped Yuuri’s forearm and foreleg together with the next rope. The knots pressed into the sensitive flesh of Yuuri’s ankle and the back of his calves, making him tremble. 

“Time to fly,” Victor whispered, and Yuuri groaned. 

Victor still used clips for this part instead of rope, and the kiss of cold steel between Yuuri’s shoulder blades and at the small of his back was torture. He waited for the lift, the inevitable fright of feeling the world drop out from beneath him. Victor balanced the tension between the two anchors, watching to make sure the ropes didn’t cut into Yuuri’s hips or thighs, chest or shoulders. 

Yuuri’s free leg kept him steady as he rose up, until his toes were just barely scraping the blanket. The distribution of weight felt pleasant, the ropes cradling Yuuri’s body and holding it in the air. Victor came up beside him, petting him, and Yuuri felt the press of Victor’s crotch behind him, testing to make sure they’d align well at this height. Victor shifted the angle slightly, then seemed satisfied.

Instead of leaving his other leg free, or binding his thighs together, like a true sit spin, Yuuri felt Victor tying his ankle and then pulling it back.

And back. 

“Can you hold this?” Victor asked, when he’d put Yuuri nearly in a split. The stretch felt so good, especially with his knee bent and his ankle elevated. Yuuri felt Victor hook the rope into he crook of his elbow, and he loosened it and tightened it, letting Yuuri feel the potential range of binding. Yuuri focused, listened to the tension in his body, and nodded when it was acceptable. Victor tied it off after Yuuri had a few more moments to breathe into the restraint.

He checked all of the ropes, his hands sliding over Yuuri’s body in the most sensuous way. 

“Nothing too tight?” 

Yuuri shook his head. 

He tied one more rope, which he threaded right between Yuuri’s legs. One thick knot went directly over his asshole, another at his taint, and then he separated each of Yuuri’s balls and made a tight ring around his cock. Yuuri groaned - first, because the pressure at all those different points was indescribable - and second because it meant Victor didn’t intend on taking him any time soon, and he was already dying.

The next touch Yuuri felt wasn’t Victor’s fingers, but the exquisite torture of a pinwheel crawling up his ankle. His whole body tightened up, jerking away from the touch, and he moaned into his gag.

“I thought you said you could be quiet,” Victor teased. 

“Mmf!” 

Yuuri felt Victor’s smile as his lips pressed into the diamond of flesh after the pinwheel, kissing. The pinwheel continued, tiny metal spikes dipping against his calf, the bend of his knee, his thigh. Yuuri danced in the restraints, his body pulsing to the tune, and the ropes held him and caught every shift of his weight and that damn, damn knot between the cheeks of his ass pressed just right.

The pinwheel came to Yuuri’s jaw, tracing. It touched his collar bones, then pricked its way down to his nipples. Yuuri was almost screaming into the gag, the cloth muffling him well but Victor still worried about waking Yuri. 

“Shhh, easy, Yuuri,” Victor whispered as the pinwheel traced down the various diamonds on his chest, coming to his abdomen, then farther down.

Yuuri froze, unable to do anything more than twitch as the pinwheel met the meat of his cock. Victor slowed the pace of the pinwheel, letting Yuuri feel every new prick. 

Unable to prevent it, Yuuri’s cock pulsed with another flood of blood. It made his cock rise up into those spines, and he screamed.

Victor’s palm came to cup his cock, holding the underside to keep it steady. Yuuri knew Victor was watching him, knew he was waiting, just waiting, to see if Yuuri would do their safe action. He was up against his edge and they both knew it. But Yuuri didn’t, and Victor continued, and those little tiny pricks came to the very tip of his cock. 

His body shuddered.

Cum spurted out of his cock, shooting over Victor’s wrist and forearm as his whole body went tight in the binding. 

The pinwheel disappeared, replaced by the heat of Victor’s mouth. Sensitive didn’t even begin to describe it but Victor was careful, gentle as he suckled and cleaned. Then he rose, and pulled the gag from Yuuri’s mouth. 

“Do you want to see yourself, my husband?” Victor whispered.

“Victor…” Yuuri managed to articulate. Victor touched the blindfold, loosening the knot and gently drawing it away from Yuuri’s eyes, which closed instinctively against the light. Victor dropped a kiss on each of Yuuri’s eyelids. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Victor soothed, brushing Yuuri’s hair and laying a comforting hand over the largest diamond of skin at the small of Yuuri’s back. 

Yuuri’s eyes fluttered, gazing at the blanket over the tatami mats, and then he slowly lifted them to look in the mirrors. 

“O.. Oh…” Yuuri stuttered. 

Victor was behind him, steadying him so he was hanging from the best angle. He looked gorgeous, his body twisted open, one leg forward, one back, almost as if he was leaping a hurdle. The rope connecting his ankle to his elbow had a decorative knot hanging from it, and there were a few others around his body - not meant for pleasure or sensation but the physical beauty of it all. 

Yuuri couldn’t believe it was his beautiful body at the core of the sculpture.

“Sugoi...” 

Victor smiled, coming around in front of Yuuri again and cupping his cheek. “I’d still like to take you like this, unless you’re tired?”

“Never for you,” Yuuri sighed, that same overwhelming love in his eyes. 

“Nothing’s too tight? Chafing? Hurting?” Victor asked, ever so carefully removing that last rope he’d put on, freeing Yuuri’s spent cock and unblocking his ass. 

“Elbow, just a little,” Yuuri said.

Victor untied the rope and let Yuuri’s free leg lower again, his toes just barely able to flutter the blanket. Then he took a moment to rub the faint red mark there, soothing, and give it a kiss.

“This will be easier for me anyway,” Victor smiled. 

“Victor,” Yuuri whispered as he watched him start to undress. Victor looked up, catching Yuuri’s eyes in the mirror.

Yuuri licked his lips, then let them part, mouth opening. 

“Mm,” it was Victor’s turn to purr as he came up in front of Yuuri, lowering the ropes until Yuuri could get his mouth around his cock. 

“I forgot how much I love your mouth,” Victor whispered, brushing back Yuuri’s hair as he worked. Yuuri still couldn’t deep throat, but his tongue was far more dextrous than either Victor’s or Yuri’s. 

Victor couldn’t handle it for too long, the session having left him aching, but Yuuri knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t long before Victor’s cock was wet and ready. He pulled out of Yuuri’s mouth, catching the strand of saliva connecting Yuuri’s lips to the head of his dick. He wiped it off on Yuuri’s lower lip with a blown kiss, then moved around behind him and raised the ropes again.

“You okay?” Victor asked as he spread Yuuri’s cheeks, so hungry as he looked at Yuuri’s asshole it was almost painful. 

Yuuri licked his lips and smiled to Victor’s reflection. “Fuck me.”

Victor pushed forward. He watched Yuuri’s ass open up, the brown muscle widening to make way for the spongy head of Victor’s cock. Once it closed around the shaft of his cock, the sway of the ropes let gravity force Yuuri down onto it until Victor was seated fully inside of him. Victor pulled out halfway, thrust, testing the bounce of the rope while Yuuri’s leg stretched beneath him, looking for purchase. 

When it couldn’t find any, Yuuri’s free leg wrapped around Victor’s, capturing his thighs and holding him close as he started to fuck. Victor grabbed the rope at Yuuri’s hips, the perfect handhold to drive himself deep into Yuuri’s body. It also prevented him from bouncing too far off his cock, especially as he picked up pace.

That was when Victor realized he’d forgotten the gag. 

“Ooohhhh,” Yuuri moaned. 

“Shhh,” Victor pressed, but he couldn’t slow his pace. Tying up Yuuri was the best - and worst - type of foreplay, and he was so aroused it was taking impressive self restraint not to tear down the ropes altogether and just fuck him like an animal on the floor. 

And Yuuri, sensitive as he was from his orgasm, was having just as much trouble staying quiet. 

“Ah!” he started crying out as Victor thrust. 

There was no way for him to move into it or away from it. He was utterly helpless under Victor’s assault and loving every moment of that thick cock stabbing into him. If he hadn’t come minutes ago, he would have been hard again, ready to come again, but as it was, it wound up being an entirely different sort of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Yuuri,” Victor cursed under his breath, eyes closing and body tightening and Yuuri’s eyes were glued to the mirror because there was nothing in the world like watching Victor Nikiforov come. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Victor whispered. His head was tilting back, his lips parting, his thrusts desperate. 

When he came, it was silent. His face contorted like he’d been hit, inhumanly beautiful, and his final thrusts were shivering, gorgeous things. 

“Ohh… fuck…. _Yuuri_ ,” Victor groaned, bowing breathlessly over the bound boy. And Yuuri grinned, elated, flying high from the restraint, and the sight of his lover, and more endorphins than he knew what to do with. It was like the ice. As good as the ice. A different kind of ice but love all the same. 

Even spent, Victor’s first priority was Yuuri. 

He lowered the ropes until Yuuri could stand on his single foot, then his second foot, and then when his arms were relaxed he gently removed the body work. Victor brought Yuuri to the mirror, standing slightly behind him, admiring the rope patterns left on Yuuri’s skin. 

“It’s really beautiful,” Yuuri said. “Right here…” he touched his thigh, where it looked like a ladder of red. “And here…” the diamond that had held his calf muscle. Victor turned him slightly, so that he could see his back, and the criss crosses there. He traced them with a delicate finger, and when Yuuri snuggled against his chest he held him close. 

“Bed?” Victor asked. 

“Bed,” Yuuri agreed.

— 

Yuri woke up in the middle of the night, hard as hell, tangled up between Victor and Yuuri.

“Yuuri,” Yuri stressed, nudging his side. 

“Mm…” Yuuri was fast asleep. 

“Yuuri!” he said, louder, giving Yuuri’s shoulder a shake. 

“Mm… Yur— what?” Yuuri asked. 

“Fuck me,” Yuri said.

Yuuri groaned. “Ask Victor.” 

Yuri, sitting on his knees, growled and looked over at the sprawling mess that was Victor Nikiforov. 

“Victor!” he said, tugging at the nearest limb. “Victor!”

Victor’s eyes opened. 

“Victor! I want Yuuri to fuck me,” Yuri said. 

Approaching reality, Victor gave a half snort at that, turning so he could tap his phone. 

“Yuri, it’s — 3am?!…. go to _sleep_ ,” Victor said.

“We’ve created a monster,” Yuuri mumbled into Victor’s neck.

“He was always a monster,” Victor corrected sleepily, eyes starting to close again as he hugged his husband tight.

“No!” Yuri said, squirming his way between the pair. “Yuuri, I’m horny, fuck me.”

He paused. “Please.”

“M’not even hard.”

Yuri took this as instructive and wiggled between Yuuri’s legs, pulling down his underwear and tossing it aside so he could get at his cock. 

“Nnngh,” Yuuri groaned as he felt heat all around him. “Monster…”

Victor was all but dreaming across Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri idly traced the shell of Victor’s ear, starting to fall back asleep even with Yuri bobbing between his legs.

“Yuri… I came twice last night…” Yuuri groaned, even as he felt himself harden. 

“Then you can fuck me for a long t— twice?” Yuri’s head popped up.

“I fucked him after you fell asleep,” Victor slurred, reaching for Yuri. He grabbed him, pulling Yuri’s back against his chest despite Yuri’s squirming and flailing, and brought his hand around between Yuri’s legs. Yuri went still as Victor started stroke him, then began thrusting gently into Victor’s grip. 

“Mm, but I wanted to get fucked…” Yuri complained, though his resistance had lost its fervor.

“You’ve already got something in you,” Victor said, voice still sleep drunk even if his hand was doing an admirable job stroking Yuri. “I’ll fuck you again another day.”

He did let his hips rock forward against the plastic flare of the toy inside Yuri. 

“Ohh…” Yuri murmured, startled at the sensation. 

“Yeah?” Victor asked.

“Yeah,” Yuri sighed. He found Yuuri’s lips were close to his and kissed him as Victor worked off his sexual energy, stroking quick and efficient but not entirely without play. Yuuri couldn’t see much in the dark, but he knew the sound of jerking off well enough to know what was happening, and he enjoyed the lazy kiss with Yuri.

With his free hand he grabbed some tissues, ready for when Yuri came. He’d been washing the sheets… a lot lately. But he’d still avoid it if he could. 

Victor’s fingertips made quick work of Yuri’s arousal. Yuri’s fingernails scraped at Victor’s hip as he reached back to grab him in warning, and Victor said a quick ‘Yuuri’ to pass along the information so that Yuuri was ready when Yuri groaned in orgasm and spilled into the waiting tissues. 

“There, _Kotënok_ ,” Victor soothed, kissing Yuri’s hair. 

“Next time, we fuck,” Yuri muttered. 

“…You’re welcome,” Victor smirked.


	5. The Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, 25k words of shameless smut into a story that was supposed to be an afternoon's distraction.
> 
> Sigh ._.

“I think I’m ready,” Yuri said. “I want to try.”

“Are you sure?” Victor asked, closing the door behind him.

Yuri’s eyes narrowed in determination and he nodded.

“Yuuri, do you mind if Yuri and I play for awhile?” Victor asked. 

“Uh? Oh, can I watch?” Yuuri asked, distracted on the couch with a video game. 

Victor raised his brow at Yuri, who shrugged. 

“Sure,” Victor said, though Yuuri made no move to get up from the couch, was in fact quite engrossed in whatever it was he was playing. 

Victor took Yuri’s hand and brought him to the bed. Yuri didn’t flinch at all as Victor’s hand crept down his back, cupped his ass, and touched a fingertip between his cheeks. Victor met with the hard end of Yuri’s new toy, seated deep inside of him. 

“How has it been?” Victor asked, pressing a few times rhythmically on the silicon. He watched Yuri’s lips part at the sensation, a blush rise to his cheeks. 

“I hate taking it out,” Yuri said. “I wore it during practice today, and it—“

“Ah, so that’s why you did so well,” Victor smirked. “It makes you very aware of the way you move, doesn’t it?”

Yuri growled affirmatively. 

“I want to undress you, but I think this round, if you really want to test yourself, I might not check in with you so often. I doubt Otabek will be quite so keen to train you.”

“He should feel entitled to my body,” Yuri said. “I will be his in every way.” 

Victor laughed quietly. “So you want me to act like that, _Kotënok_?”

“Stop asking me so many questions?” Yuri snorted. “I can’t wait.”

Victor changed. 

Yuri couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but Victor’s hands suddenly felt different. They roamed over his body, feeling muscle under cloth, and gripped and loosened at uneven intervals: as they passed his ass, his pectorals, his groin. One hand moved up to snare Yuri’s neck, and Victor’s lips followed, catching on the soft skin beneath Yuri’s jaw. 

Yuri winced as teeth joined lips, Victor taking a soft bite of Yuri’s flesh. Tasting him. Yuri’s pain vanished into sensation and he tilted his head back. If Otabek wanted him like this, it was his duty to give everything.

Victor roved under Yuri’s shirt, palming the knots of his abdomen and then driving downward. His hand caught at the edge of Yuri’s pants and without any ceremony he shoved the boy down onto the bed. 

“Take them off,” Victor said. Not in the playful-but-sexy coach’s voice he normally used. This was something else. Yuri trembled for a moment before complying, carelessly grabbing at his pants and pushing them down and then —

Victor grabbed Yuri by the jaw, forceful in a way he hadn’t been before. He stared into Yuri’s eyes.

“ _Slowly_ ,” Victor corrected. “For me.”

Yuri remembered. He was supposed to be being beautiful. He was _always_ supposed to be being beautiful. He let the surprise and gut-reaction anger fade from his expression, turning it sensuous and serene once more. Victor was always making him imagine Otabek. Now he just had to do that here, too. 

If it was Otabek at the edge of the bed, waiting to ravish him, what would Yuri do? He would do whatever he could to make that ravishing happen as soon - and as hard - as he could. Victor was asking for seduction, and it was finally Yuri’s turn to play eros.

Only they hadn’t practiced this part. 

Yuri tried to call on something - anything - as he slowly lifted his shirt up. He remembered Victor’s hands on his abs and flexed them for him as they were revealed. Then he turned his back on Victor - Otabek - and started to ease his pants over his hips. He slid them down until he was in nothing but a small scrap of tight black cloth, then sat in the middle of the bed, his hands between his knees like a kitten. 

He didn’t look at Victor, just moved his hips slightly side to side like he was getting ready to pounce. Then he let his body roll all the way backwards, until he was collapsed on his back with his knees still tucked. He let his thumbs catch in the black waistband and slowly, slowly ease it down. 

Victor’s shirt landed on his chest, interrupting his show, and the next moment he felt Victor’s hands at his waist, pulling him out of his stretch. He pushed the last of the fabric away and Victor’s knees wound up in-between Yuri’s, cocks nearly touching. Victor grabbed Yuri’s neck again, pulled him into a kiss that was ferocious and aggressive and — 

And _entitled_. 

That’s the difference, Yuri realized. 

In all of their training, whenever Victor had touched him, it had always been about Yuri. He’d been helping Yuri. Training Yuri. He’d enjoyed Yuri, too, yes, but everything he did was focused around Yuri’s enjoyment and betterment, not his own. 

Now Victor was… he was using Yuri for himself.

Yuri felt a hand around his cock. Victor was holding both of them in one hand, his fingers sliding up and down and making the skin glide together. There was no lube - there wouldn’t be. Yuri’s test was to take it raw. 

When he stopped kissing, Victor’s hand dipped from Yuri’s hair to his ass. He slipped a finger under the thin, curving piece of silicon that kept the toy from being swallowed inside. Yuri groaned as Victor started pulling out the toy - gasped when it left him empty. It was purposefully small, just enough to keep Yuri used to the sensation.

Victor set it aside and then pushed Yuri back onto the bed. Again, he started kissing, grabbing Yuri’s hands and pinning them over his head at the wrist. Yuri remembered enough to wrap his legs around Victor’s waist, but found himself distracted by what was coming next. This was it. If he could handle Victor, he was ready for Otabek.

The pressure came abruptly, and Yuri wasn’t ready, but Victor wasn’t paying attention to the way Yuri’s body clenched in surprise - and pain. Or rather, he probably was, but Yuri had told him not to act on it. 

Yuri gasped out, wincing, as Victor pushed through the tightness. Yuri’s gut reaction was to pull his arms close to his chest to protect himself, but Victor’s grip tightened on his wrist, leaving him exposed. The toy was nothing compared to Victor, and even though he’d gotten used to Victor’s size throughout the season, this was different. It was terrible. It burned.

And Yuri was going to deal with it. 

He let out a breath, far too fast - not the beautiful moans he should have been releasing. Victor was eyeing him, expecting him to say _stop_. But Yuri grit his teeth, tightened his thighs around Victor’s hips, and - despite the whole of his body telling him to fight - he relaxed. 

“Yes,” Victor groaned by his ear, and Yuri was surprised at how that single word of praise affected him. 

It still burned, but less so with every motion. Victor was going deep but not particularly fast, nor hard. He also wasn’t aiming anywhere special. Wasn’t making sure his thrusts hit that spot inside Yuri. 

Yuri hadn’t realized just how attentive Victor was until that attention was gone.

Yuri closed his eyes, imagined himself as a little doll under Otabek. A doll wouldn’t be preoccupied with their own pleasure. A doll was designed for someone else to enjoy. Yuri imagined it was Otabek moving inside of him, enjoying him, taking his pleasure from Yuri’s body. 

Yuri’s head tipped back, moaning softly, letting his muscles engage occasionally around Victor - teasing little flutters that wouldn’t impair his ability to thrust.

He realized he liked the tightness of Victor’s hands around his wrists, enjoyed the fact that he could twist and arch under Victor and never displace him. He pulled against that grip and it was like steel, keeping Yuri in place. 

And then, abruptly, he was empty.

Yuri mewled at the sensation, eyes open. Victor was grabbing him at the waist and flipping him over, onto his stomach, then tugging his hips upward. Yuri folded himself as Victor desired, tucking his knees beneath his body, and spread his legs invitingly. He even arched his back to press his ass higher, then looked over his shoulder, challenging Victor to take him. 

With a growl, Victor covered Yuri’s body with his own. He bent over Yuri, his nails prickling along Yuri’s back. As he rose up again, kneeling behind Yuri, he gave Yuri’s ass a smack and thrust inside. 

“Ai!” Yuri cried out. _God_ , it was deep. There was nothing in this position to prevent Victor from going as far as he could, and Yuri reeled at how vulnerable it made him feel, to have Victor squeezing into his most intimate places. He went taut, couldn't help it, and pressed his face against the sheets to hide how much effort it took to keep his legs from clamping shut.

And Victor didn’t stop. Wouldn’t, Yuri knew, unless he told him to. 

Would Otabek be the same way? 

The thought gave Yuri a little thrill and he opened up again, letting Victor go deep, as deep as he wanted. 

Victor did. 

“Ahn!” Yuri cried again. Because Victor took everything he offered and then some, adding force to his depth.

“You’re hurting him,” came Yuuri’s voice, and Yuri looked up to see his eyes peeking over from behind the couch.

“I’m enjoying him the way he wants to be enjoyed,” Victor said, and again he slammed his hips forward. 

Yuri screamed. Moaned. Wasn’t sure which. He missed Victor’s voice. He missed Victor’s attentiveness. 

But this is what he’d asked for. What he wanted. 

“More,” Yuri whispered, and the next thrust, the sound of their skin smacking together echoed like a thunderclap. It pushed Yuri forward, collapsing him down and rubbing his torso over the sheets. He had to brace his hands against the headboard, spreading out his fingers to catch his weight and keep Victor from crumpling him. 

He didn’t anticipate that Victor would grab the top of the headboard and use it for leverage.

Yuri died. Or it felt like dying. He found himself suddenly far away from what was happening, watching Victor pummel his body from the audience. He was vaguely aware of the sensations inside of him, throughout him, but he was also floating, enjoying the idea of it as he observed. He saw himself crying out with every thrust. He saw himself hard and aching and pressing his hips into the sheets. He saw himself red-faced and teary-eyed from it all and wanting to be more beautiful.

And then he snapped back to reality, finding himself empty. 

He twisted over his shoulder to see Victor, kneeling behind him, stroking a flagging erection.

“Victor?” Yuri asked. 

“You went somewhere,” Victor said. He reached out a hand and brushed Yuri’s flank, and it was that familiar touch. It was Victor wanting to take care of him. Yuri’s body was burning, his ass still on fire from everything he’d just felt, but he turned all the same and scooted close to Victor. “It’s hard for me to act that way.”

“Are you alright?”

“Are you?”

“It hurts a lot,” Yuri admitted, sitting on his heels. “But I did it, right?”

“Mmm,” Victor nodded. “If you could handle that, I’m sure you can handle anything Otabek throws at you.”

That was all Yuri ever wanted to hear, but he felt strange looking at Victor, kneeling there, cock half hard. He felt strange and empty. 

Yuri moved forward, settling across Victor’s lap, and braced himself on Victor’s shoulders, the way he had the first day. When he lowered himself, however, it wasn’t onto Victor’s fingers, but his cock. He took it slowly, trying to sooth the fire inside him, and gazed into Victor’s eyes. 

“Mmm?” Victor asked, hand going to Yuri’s ass, clutching a cheek to support him. 

“Paying my coach’s fee,” Yuri said. 

“Ah,” Victor acknowledged, and his smile came back. He brushed Yuri’s hair back from his face, finding himself rather fond of their little tiger.

“Can I come back still?” Yuri asked. “For more training?”

“If you think Otabek will share you,” Victor said, and for once he relaxed and enjoyed himself while Yuri did the work. 

“Oh, that’s right,” Yuuri said, popping up from the couch and coming over to the bed. He stripped down, crawled on, and came behind Yuri, setting a hand on his ass at his rose and fell on Victor’s cock. “The dinner’s tomorrow. We might not get to play with you again.” 

Yuri wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. But… he would have Otabek. 

“Are you ready for it?” Victor asked, watching the muscles in Yuri’s legs as he rode him. 

“What are you going to wear?” Yuuri grinned from behind him. 

Yuri growled at them both, tossing his hair back as he started to sweat from the ride. 

“My suit?” he said. 

Victor gasped. “Shopping time! You have to let us take you shopping tomorrow morning.”

Yuri slammed himself down particularly hard. He’d intended to punish Victor with the gesture, but it only made Victor groan appreciatively. And Yuuri, who was wanting to be a part of the action, sat eagerly beside them and leaned on Victor to get a better view. Victor slid a hand between Yuuri’s legs, fondling him idly.

“Are you going to wax?” Victor waggled his eyebrow. 

“Eh?”

“Chris does,” Victor said. “You could ask him about it.”

Yuri made a face of disgust and continued lifting himself up and down Victor’s cock. “Eh, Victor, why aren’t you enjoying this more?” 

“I got distracted thinking about your date,” Victor grinned. “Here. Let’s try something different. Twist around so you’re facing away from me.”

Victor laid down on the bed, unseating Yuri, then clapped his palm on his hip to invite Yuri back onto his cock. “Hop on.”

Yuri straddled him, facing Victor’s legs, and reached back to guide Victor into him again. 

“Mmm, perfect,” Victor crooned. “Now, Yuuri, you c—“

Before Victor had time to finish the sentence, Yuuri’s cock was at his lips and he laughed as he opened his mouth and took it in. 

“Ah, Victor,” Yuuri sighed, blushing. 

Yuri glanced over his shoulder to see what was going on and smirked as he watched his Katsudon. 

He watched Yuuri’s rhythm as his hips slowly thrust into Victor’s mouth, then tried to match the rise and fall of his ass with it. Victor started meeting Yuri, thrusting in as Yuri sank down, and Victor’s subsequent moans delighted Yuuri’s flesh. 

Yuuri wound up pulling out, then twisted to look at Yuri. 

“I want you,” Yuuri said, setting a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri looked back at him, his smile cocky but eager, and he raised himself slowly, slowly off of Victor. 

“Ok,” Yuri agreed. “But first I have something for us.”

Yuri went to the door, where he’d dropped his bag, and pulled out a long, thin box. Yuuri and Victor both stared at his body as he moved, naked and freshly fucked and glistening with sweat like morning dew. Yuri startled when he looked up and saw the intensity from both of them, then promptly decided that he liked it. He did a half dance to the side, twirling slow and dragging a hand up his thigh, chest. 

“Like what you see?” he asked the couple. 

Victor gave a little wolf whistle. 

“ _Hai_ ,” Yuuri agreed.

Yuri played seductress as he approached the bed, two steps forward, one step back, and Victor and Yuuri both kept their eyes glued to his body. Yuri basked in the attention, his prima ballerina attitude coming out in full force as he soaked up their gaze. 

Finally he came to the bed, crawled onto it like a tiger and then leapt at both of them, tackling them down and nipping at Victor’s neck, kissing at Yuuri’s face. In seconds everyone was laughing, hands tousling Yuri’s hair or hugging him tight. Yuri grinned at them, then held out the box to Yuuri. 

“Here,” Yuri said. 

Yuuri eyed the box, then lifted it open. His cheeks immediately went red.

“They change color based on the temperature,” Yuri smirked.

Yuuri pulled out the salmon pink skate guards, fingers trailing over the curves and feeling the grip ridges. He swallowed.

“I want to put it in you,” Yuri said. Then, remembering, glanced back at Victor. “… If it’s OK.” 

Victor nodded his approval, and Yuuri’s blush deepened. 

“Then you can put one in me?” Yuri asked, touching Yuuri’s thigh. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuuri sighed at the idea. He laid a hand over Yuri’s, squeezed: “ _Spasibo_.” But Yuri just grinned and pushed Yuuri down on the bed. 

“Ass up,” Yuri said, and Yuuri snorted but lifted his legs. “Victor, where’s the — oh” And he grabbed the bottle of lube Victor had already prepared. 

“I’ll wash them first,” Victor said, grabbing the skate guards. “You get him ready.”

He left the two alone and Yuri smirked down to his counterpart, lubing up two of his fingers. He let his middle finger slide into Yuuri first, just like their very first time, and pistoned it casually in and out of Yuuri’s ass. Then he remembered how Victor had touched him, and he started to feel around inside of Yuuri, seeing if he could figure out that spot. 

Yuuri clenched down when Yuri’s finger landed on a firmer portion of tissue. Yuri watched Yuuri’s face as he circled his finger over it, then pressed. 

“Nnn,” Yuuri groaned.

Yuri withdrew his finger, then pushed in again, aiming for that same dense tangle of nerves. He wanted to be able to thrust directly against it. He struck it again. Yuuri flexed again. And then Yuri was confident enough to start a rhythm. 

“Don’t get him too excited,” Victor warned from the kitchen. “You know he comes fast when he’s got stuff in his ass.”

So Yuri added a second finger but avoided that exact spot except for very brief, glancing touches. It was virtual torture for Yuuri, who pushed his foot against Yuri’s chest in protest, but Yuri just nipped his ankle and continued. 

“Monster,” Yuuri grimaced, struck by another wave of pleasure. 

Victor returned, the skate guards glistening, and Yuri drizzled one in lube. Victor scooted close to him as Yuuri lowered the curved point of the guard to Yuuri’s asshole. 

“Go slowly,” Victor encouraged. 

Yuri nodded, gently wiggling the plastic point against Yuuri’s muscle. 

Victor groped Yuuri’s ass, then carefully spread his cheeks apart so it would be easier for Yuri to see what he was doing. It was fascinating, watching the way Yuuri’s body reached for it, almost begging for the guard, and Yuri just fed the tip of the hook inside. 

“Now, you want to push it inward as you’re rotating it, so the point doesn’t pull against the inside of his asshole,” Victor explained. “That’s very painful.” 

Victor glanced at Yuuri, who was already getting his bliss face. 

“You’re going to have to hurt him a little bit to get it in, but you want to keep the pain to a minimum,” Victor said. Yuri watched the curve, planning what he would do, and when he was ready he pushed the curve of the skate guard down into Yuuri’s ass while pulling the flat body of it closer to perpendicular, no longer resting near Yuuri’s cock. 

“Ah!” Yuuri yelped, but then it was over, and they were around the curve, and Yuuri’s ass had swallowed the hook and was trying to close around the main portion of the guard. 

“Perfect,” Victor whispered near Yuri’s ear, and his hand was between Yuri’s legs, playing.

“You like these ripples, right?” Yuri asked as they reached the textured portion of the skate guard. The semi-circular grooves caught on Yuuri’s muscle one by one as Yuri pushed them inward, and Yuri went so far as to jiggle them each in and out as he went. 

“Yuri!” Yuuri pleaded. 

“What?” Yuri asked, feigning innocence. Yuuri just groaned. 

“That’s about his limit,” Victor said as Yuri approached the halfway point. Yuri nodded, then pulled the guard out slightly, eyes widening to see it was a minty green color where it had been engulfed in Yuuri’s ass.

Yuuri saw their faces and propped himself on his elbows so he could look. As soon as he saw it he sank back down again, face a brilliant red.

“Let him breathe for a bit so he doesn’t come,” Victor said, giving Yuri’s cock a squeeze. “Your turn.”

Yuri nodded, offering Yuuri a hand. Moving carefully so as not to dislodge or deepen the skate guard, Yuuri pulled himself to his knees and gazed at Yuri, licking his lips. 

Victor had already lubed up the second skate guard, so all Yuri had to do was fall back and spread his legs and then Yuuri was there. 

“Remember what I said,” Victor told Yuri, petting his hair. “It’s going to hurt a bit.”

“I’m ready,” Yuri said. 

Yuuri clearly knew his way around a skate guard. Yuri felt the tip start to penetrate him, then suddenly it was thicker, thicker — he gasped as it stretched him open, pushing him beyond his limits, hurting him — 

And then he moaned, long and loud, as the guard sank home. 

Yuuri didn’t push to the texture just yet. He rocked the skate guard slowly, angling it to hit Yuri’s prostate, and Yuri wondered why he hadn’t thought of that. Little stars blossomed in his vision at the sensation of it, and his cock pulsed and leaked. 

“Ready for the grip?” Yuuri asked, and as soon as Yuri nodded the first rippled texture caught on his asshole and made his toes curl. 

“Ah - _blyad_ \- fuck -“ Yuri gasped at the feeling. 

“Now you understand,” Yuuri smirked, letting Yuri enjoy all the little nuances of having the plastic catch on your body, pull, release. Yuri was staring into space, his full attention on the sensations between his legs.

“Ok,” Victor said. “I want both of you side by side. You can kiss each other, but let me handle your guards.”

Yuri, still moaning faintly from the feel of the ridges, rolled onto his knees. His hands went instinctively to Yuuri’s body - it was familiar now - and he tucked his arm around Yuuri’s waist and kissed him and pushed his ass backwards. He was ready when Victor took both of their skate guards and started a rhythm, fucking the plastic into their bodies in time.

Yuuri’s mouth tasted differently than Victor’s, still enjoyable, still good, and made better by the whimpers and moans coming out of it. Yuri drank these down, echoed them, exchanging sounds and saliva as they kissed and had their asses violated by that wonderful, embarrassing, tantalizing plastic. 

Yuri slid his hand between their bodies, grabbing Yuuri’s cock, and Yuuri returned the favor, both of them pulling on each other with languid strokes that wouldn't detract too much from the earth-shattering sensations in their asses.

Victor angled the guards until Yuri was shuddering in pleasure. 

“Stop!” Yuuri called, and Victor froze, holding the guards in place. 

“Stop,” Yuuri repeated, but with a grin now. “I want to fuck him… before he goes…” 

“As do I,” Victor purred. The husbands were like two hungry wolves as they gazed at Yuri, and Yuri, without even a blush, adored it. 

He showed his approval of this plan by laying out on his back again and letting Yuuri slowly ease the plastic out of his ass. It hardly even hurt coming out, and as soon as he was empty it was like torture. 

“Fill me,” Yuri begged, and Yuuri did.

“How’s that?” Yuuri asked, sinking home. 

Yuri’s eyes rolled up into the back of his skull, but it was nothing compared to the rhythm Yuuri set when Victor grabbed _his_ skate guard and began toying with it.

“Victor, I’ll come - I’ll come - “ Yuuri warned, picking up the pace of his thrusts because he wanted to mark Yuri one last time.

“Give me a turn,” Victor said, letting go of the guard and trading places with Yuuri, lifting Yuri’s legs up over his shoulders as his cock made its way into the now rather pliable opening of Yuri’s body. 

“Yes, Victor, fuck me,” Yuri begged. 

Victor bowed over Yuri, bending his body as he fucked in earnest. It was hard and rough, yet completely different from earlier. Victor cared this time. Victor cared and Victor was hitting that spot and Yuri’s body was aflame and shuddering and —

“My turn,” Yuuri said, pulling Victor off of Yuri before he could come. Yuri cursed him out, only silenced when Yuuri filled him again. 

“Shhh,” Victor said, kissing Yuri. “You know we’ll take care of you, _Kotënok_.“

They did, both of them fucking him until they were on the verge of coming, then pulling out and breathing while the other took a turn. They gave just enough attention to Yuri’s prostate to keep him strung along, until he was losing his mind needing to come. 

He started to beg. 

Every thrust he begged. Every thrust louder than the one before. 

“Now?” Victor asked, as he switched places once more, his cock spearing into Yuri’s body.

“Now,” Yuuri agreed, and Victor pummeled into their tiger, holding him down and barraging that sweet spot and pushing the head of his cock right up against it as he came, letting those few shots of liquid provide that extra little bit of stimulus. Yuri started to come almost immediately, screaming when Victor pulled out and crying as Yuuri filled him instead. 

Victor grabbed Yuuri’s skate guard, pushed it just right, and Yuuri was coming the next moment, adding his offering to Victor’s inside of the twisting, bucking, beautiful blond. 

Yuri couldn’t move. 

Cum was sprayed across his chest, the bottom of his chin. Yuuri and Victor came to rest on either side of him, each of them kissing a cheek. His lashes interlocked, eyes closing, boneless and spent and warm and perfect between the pair. 

Victor wiped Yuri down with a few tissues. Yuuri carefully removed the skate guard and turned red all over again for the color of it. 

They stayed like that, snuggled, for a quarter of an hour, lazily touching each other, drifting in and out of daydreams. Finally Victor sat up, running a hand through his hair, and gazed down at Yuri.

“You should go home, get a good night’s sleep, make sure you’re ready for tomorrow,” Victor said. 

Yuri nodded, but not before he grabbed his thin toy and held it out to Victor. Victor smirked, slipping it between Yuri’s legs and sliding it in. 

Then Yuri stood, dressed. Yuuri came up and wrapped him in a tight hug. 

“Good luck tomorrow,” Yuuri grinned. “Don’t forget to talk to him.”

“You’ll be just fine,” Victor assured, kissing the tip of Yuri’s nose. 

Yuri took a breath, settling himself, and then hugged both of them once more. He didn’t say anything, maybe didn’t trust himself to. 

This was it. 

Tomorrow, he’d give himself to Otabek.


	6. Serving Otabek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's all fun and fantasy until you actually have earnest conversations with your partners about relationship expectations! :D :D :D
> 
> (Sorry for the plot, y'all, I tried to keep it at bay as long as I could :( Soon we'll return to your regularly scheduled shameless smut)

Yakov answered the door to find Mila holding up her phone, showing a text from Yuri that just said “COME OVER NOW.”

Yakov grumbled and rolled his eyes. “He’s in the bathroom.” He gestured with his thumb and walked away, muttering. 

Mila turned the corner of the master bathroom and found Yuri poised primly on a vanity seat, surrounded by a flock of people. Lilia was braiding his hair, Georgi was brushing a light layer of makeup onto his cheeks, Victor was adjusting the straps of his suspenders, and Yuuri was rolling up the satin sleeves of his shirt.

“Mila!” Yuri growled as he saw her. “Make my nails look nice.” And he held his hand out like a prima donna. 

“Do you have an exhibition?” Mila asked, but like the rest of them, she couldn’t resist fawning over Yuri. Soon enough she was kneeling next to him, trimming his nails, filing them into gentle curves. She rinsed them and rubbed lotion into his hands, and the whole time everyone worked to transform him. By the time the clear coat had dried, Georgi was done with makeup and Yuri’s hair was braided along the sides. Yuuri had pinned his slacks almost invisibly and Victor had polished his shoes.

Yuri stood and looked over himself in the mirror, chin lifted, eyes cool. 

_There’s nothing more classic than black and white_ , Victor had said that morning. 

“It’s missing something,” Lilia said, and she disappeared into her closet. When she returned, she had a small, intricate metal cuff that dripped with a few green gemstones. She brushed Yuri’s hair back and clipped it to the shell of his ear, the color accenting Yuri’s eyes. 

“Perfect,” Victor said. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a girlfriend, Yuri?” Mila asked, draping herself on his shoulders. 

“Eh! Baba! Get off me!” He shouted. 

“I’m jealous,” Georgi sighed.

“Good,” Yuri spat.

The doorbell rang again, and Yakov cried out in frustration from the other room. “Yuri! STOP BRINGING PEOPLE HERE!”

But Yuri’s face had gone pale and he bolted out of the bathroom, nearly shoving Yakov over as he raced to the door. 

“GO AWAY!” Yuri yelled at Yakov, and Yakov threw up his hands and walked back to the living room and his alcohol. 

Four different heads peeked around the corner to watch as Yuri danced from foot to foot before taking a deep breath and opening the door. 

“What’s he saying?!” Georgi hissed. 

Lilia grabbed them by the ears and pulled them away. 

“Leave him be,” she warned them, and they collectively pouted. 

—

“Otabek.”

He had his leather jacket on, his gloves, the same sort of thing he always wore only with nicer slacks, but Yuri still felt breathless. He stepped out of the house as Georgi and Lilia’s muted conversation rose behind him. The idea of them listening made him scowl and he shut the door - harder than intended - before running his fingers through his bangs. 

Was Otabek watching him? Did he notice how nice Yuri looked? 

“Let’s go,” Otabek said simply. He turned away, walking to his motorcycle without a backwards glance, and Yuri followed him down the steps with a nervous swallow. This was it. 

This was it. This was it. This was it.

He minded his braids as he pulled the helmet on, then grabbed Otabek’s waist. Even that simple, functional touch was electric. Otabek didn’t say anything more, just churned the gas and rode.

Unable to be seen, Yuri allowed himself a moment to flush. He was glad he didn’t have to talk: he didn’t know what to say. His stomach was a mess of nerves, Otabek hadn’t said _anything_ , and Yuri was already buzzing a mile a minute. He realized that in all of his fantasies he’d just skipped to the two of them in bed and never paused to wonder how they’d get there. 

What did he say?

How did he ask?

What was he _thinking_?

At the next red light he moved closer to Otabek, his hand slipping near the crux of Otabek’s thigh. Otabek tensed under his touch and Yuri wondered if that was good or bad. Should he take the hand away? It was too late to make the touch seem like an accident, and it would be embarrassing to immediately draw back. Yuri growled at himself, inaudible as the wind picked up again. 

_Baka_ , he cursed.

Yuri didn’t recognize the restaurant they pulled up to. Otabek’s bike wasn't the only one, but the majority of the parking spaces were filled with fancier cars. The building’s utterly nondescript facade made that even stranger.

Yuri popped his hands awkwardly off of Otabek’s hips and checked his hair as he took off the helmet. He didn’t just want to be beautiful for Otabek. He wanted to be beautiful so that everyone who looked at him would realize how perfect Otabek must be to have him. That idea lingered in Yuri’s head as he trailed Otabek to the entrance, minding his posture and the way he held his chin and the casual grace of his steps. 

He still glared daggers at anyone who even dared be in the vicinity of Otabek, of course, but that was his prerogative. 

As they passed through the doorway Yuri was struck by a combination of smoke, beautiful jazz music, a sonorous soprano, and the low drone of a crowd. He stepped closer to Otabek, no longer content to tail after him like a puppy. He wanted to be at Otabek’s side. He wanted everyone to know who he belonged to.

… Who he _wanted_ to belong to.

Otabek slipped between standing clusters of people, through the room and past the stage to a dark stairway. Up, up, to the balcony, and here there was hardly anyone. A few tables looked down towards the stage, with booths farther back. 

“It’ll be just a moment,” the host said when Otabek gestured for the two of them. 

Otabek went to the edge of the balcony, and Yuri joined him, leaning on the rail. Otabek still hadn’t spoken a word, and Yuri found his heart thudding in his chest, trembling beside this man he so desperately wanted to be _his_ man. He had no idea what Otabek was thinking, no idea what Otabek wanted, and it was driving him crazy.

But he stood next to Otabek, as beautifully as he could, and looked where Otabek looked and tried to think of what to say. 

He wasn’t prepared for the sensation of Otabek’s hand on the small of his back. 

He felt a hundred things at once: surprise, arousal, relief, gratitude, possession. Against his will, his eyes darted up to see Otabek, but he hadn’t acknowledged the gesture at all. He was staring down at the stage.

“I usually stay to myself,” Otabek said. “But sometimes it’s good to be alone near other people.” 

What did that _mean_? Yuri panicked.

“And sometimes good not to be alone?” Yuri asked. 

Otabek glanced over at Yuri. His thumb made a slight brushing motion on the small of Yuri’s back, through the satin shirt. “Sometimes.”

The host returned to collect them, but Otabek’s hand didn’t drop. He used it to guide Yuri after the host, to one of the booths. In all his life, Yuri never would have guessed that such a subtle touch could affect him so profoundly. Otabek was leading him, like one of those fancy women that perched on their men’s arms in the movies. It was exactly what Yuri wanted. He straightened up, as if his posture wasn’t already remarkable, and when they came to the booth he almost didn’t want to sit, because it would mean Otabek letting go.

They wound up side by side, shoulders nearly touching, eyes towards the stage. Yuri was ever so aware of Otabek’s presence beside him: the gloved hands on the table, the muted stare.

“Know what you want already?” Yuri asked, when Otabek ignored the menu. 

“Yes,” Otabek replied. 

God, Yuri never imagined he would actually miss Victor’s constant rambling and little anecdotes and checking in and sometimes-unwelcome feedback. He hadn't realized how freeing it was to just know what your partner was thinking. What they wanted.

“Order for me too, then,” Yuri said, setting his menu on top of Otabek’s. 

He hadn’t brought a jacket and found himself chilled. Sitting back, his shoulder lined up with Otabek’s, satin brushing leather. In his head it had been more subtle.

Otabek’s arm fell around Yuri’s shoulders, the other stretched atop the booth cushion as Otabek leaned back. Yuri went taut in excitement, surprise. Otabek must have felt it, because he started to lift his arm up again, but Yuri grabbed his hand, held it, and tried not to show how desperate he was in the tightness of his knuckles. 

“Keep me warm,” Yuri said. “It's freezing.”

He kept holding as he shifted his weight, leaning into Otabek’s side, and neither of them looked at each other, both staring towards the stage.

Yuri couldn’t see a thing. He was too busy trying to control his breathing. 

And then the goddamn waiter showed up, and Otabek lifted his arm away to collect the menus. He sounded off the names of several dishes and ordered them drinks and Yuri glared at the waiter like perhaps he would spontaneously combust. 

When he disappeared Yuri’s eyes followed him, promising death, before his attention shifted back to Otabek.

“Do you take all your dates here?” Yuri asked. 

“I don’t date.”

Yuri tried not to sound like he was choking. He twisted to look at Otabek. “Never?”

“Once or twice. A long time ago,” Otabek said. “Everyone always wanted something different than what I wanted. And no one understood what it meant to live for the ice.”

“What about other skaters?” Yuri asked, then yelled at himself internally. _So obvious_.

“I never found one I liked.”

Yuri swallowed, frowning away from Otabek, and found himself fidgeting with his hair and touching the emeralds in his ear cuff. He so desperately wanted to be liked. 

“Just like you,” Otabek said. 

“What?”

“Mila says you don’t date,” Otabek said. 

“You asked her?”

“No.”

That made Yuri blush even harder. He would have to scream at that woman when he saw her next.

“It’s mostly fans who offer. And none of the skaters at my rink are —“ 

He almost said _are you_. 

“— are what I like.”

“What do you like?”

Yuri felt like he was dying. _Talk to him_ , Yuuri had said.

“Perfection,” Yuri declared, turning to stare at Otabek. “Someone who is so different, so powerful, so strong that nothing in the world could ever stand in his way.”

Yuri clenched his fist as he said it, all of his intensity in those words, and Otabek just stared at him.

“…His?” Otabek echoed.

Yuri was mortified. 

“Here you are,” the waiter said, setting down several small plates and their drinks. Yuri barely restrained himself from slamming his fist on the table in frustration, but his expression was enough for the waiter to look terrified all the same. 

Yuri took his drink, because he didn’t know what to say, and sipped it silently, wondering what Otabek thought. Had he completely misread all of this? Was Otabek straight? Or worse - did Otabek think Yuri was disgusting for liking men? He never seemed upset about Victor and Yuuri… but he also never really hung out with them. 

Not that he hung out with much of anyone. Yuri had been special in that.

Yuri felt himself floundering. He ran his fingers through his bangs and checked his braids and stared at the soprano because he had no idea what to do. All of his fantasies suddenly felt ridiculous and here he was, all dolled up, without the slightest idea if Otabek felt anything - _anything_ \- in return.

 _You’ll be just fine_ , Victor had said.

He’d been so confident, but now Yuri wasn’t so sure.

“Are you OK with that?” Yuri asked, and he didn’t mean for it to sound like a snarl. 

“Yes.”

Yuri wanted to scream. Otabek moved one of the plates in front of him. 

“Try.” 

Yuri looked down at the plate, and Otabek’s hand on the plate. Instead of trying the dish, he set his fingers over Otabek’s, twisting so he could gaze at him again. 

“Are you OK with _this_?” Yuri whispered. 

Otabek spent a long moment looking at Yuri’s face, not just his eyes but the resolution in his jaw and the curve of his bangs around his cheeks and the jewelry at his ear. 

“… Yes.”

And his hand turned over, thumb folding around Yuri’s fingers to rest atop his knuckles. Yuri could feel the heat off of Otabek’s palm. He could feel the grain of the leather glove. 

“I want you,” Yuri admitted before he could stop himself. His head twitched to the side, like he couldn’t bear to see Otabek’s reaction, but he forced himself to hold Otabek’s gaze. He owed him that. “I want to be yours.”

For a long moment Otabek’s face was completely blank; then his eyes darkened, brow furrowing. 

“I’m not perfect,” Otabek said. 

“You are,” Yuri insisted, lacing his fingers with Otabek’s and squeezing. “You are better than everyone I have ever met. There’s no one like you. Everyone here, we’re all the same. We have the same path. We do the same things. We teach each other and it’s just… plain, bland, more of the same. Then you come along and you prove there are other ways. You did something no one else could do. And you’re —“ 

Yuri glared at the plate. “You’re perfect. You’re perfect, Otabek.”

He hadn’t planned on saying any of this. “And I tried to be perfect so you could have perfection too.” 

Otabek’s face twitched, hints and glimmers of emotions that never fully surfaced. Yuri should have stopped talking, and he did, for a moment, but then the silence goaded him on.

“I wanted to be beautiful,” Yuri said, touching his braids. “So everyone here would see me on your arm and know how incredible you are. I wanted to be a small piece of your perfection. I wanted…” 

He squeezed Otabek’s hand, tight. 

Tighter than tight. 

And then he was somehow out of the booth, angry tears in his eyes. He elbowed past the waiter, shoved open the bathroom door, and hid in one of the stalls, pressing his palms against his face.

How had this gone so, so, _so_ wrong?

He pulled out his phone and found a text from Yuuri: _You can do it! We love you <3!_

 _I’m an idiot_ , was Yuri’s response.

He didn’t want to see what Yuuri would say in return. He shoved his phone into his pocket and curled up on the closed toilet seat, staring at the tile floor. 

What was he going to do?

Black shoes stopped outside the stall. Otabek’s, though Yuri hadn’t heard the bathroom door open. 

The stall door was unlocked, and it swung slowly inward. Otabek stepped in, then leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest, staring… somewhere. 

“Food’s getting cold,” he said, finally, and Yuri snorted, as if that mattered at all in the grand scheme of things. Besides that, Yuri gave no response, and Otabek continued: “I meant what I said. Most people don’t want what I want.”

Yuri glared at him. 

“Come eat with me,” Otabek said, extending a hand. “I like this food, and if you did all this work for people to see you…” he shrugged, like ‘why not be seen?’. “Then I’ll take you to my place.” 

_Talk to him_ , Yuuri had said. 

But Yuri was young, and so he took Otabek’s hand and pulled himself to his feet. Otabek led him out of the stall, out of the bathroom, and his hold switched from laced fingers to ones splayed out across his back again. Yuri was still angry and hurt and didn’t know entirely why, but he lifted his chin and walked back to the booth as beautifully as he could.

The food _was_ good.

Otabek asked him about practice, and his cat, and Yuri did his best to answer without emotion leaking all over his face. Still, it was hard to really focus on much of anything when all he was thinking was what ‘take you to my place’ meant. He knew what he _wanted_ it to mean, but Yuri’s faith in his assumptions was gone.

“What about you. How are you liking St. Petersburg?” Yuri asked.

“I miss home, but there are opportunities here I don’t have in Kazakhstan,” Otabek said, glancing at him. Yuri desperately wanted to read into that, but he’d been reading far too much into everything, he realized.

“Do you think you’ll stay for the season?” 

“Perhaps,” Otabek said. “I still want to see what life’s like here.”

Yuri touched the jewelry at his ear. 

“I’d be glad if you stayed,” he said. 

Otabek looked over at him, then rose, holding out a hand. “Let’s go”

Yuri took Otabek’s hand again, and this time Otabek led him through the dense throngs downstairs, making sure everyone saw him. Yuri adored that feeling, eyes landing on him and then darting to Otabek. 

When they climbed onto the motorcycle Yuri let himself hug Otabek, arms around his waist, chest resting against Otabek’s back, cheek on Otabek’s shoulder. Otabek wasn’t tense this time, and Yuri drifted as the world passed them by.

He knew Otabek was perfect. It was just a matter of whether Yuri could be part of that perfection. 

Otabek’s apartment was farther from the rink than anyone else’s, tucked at the edge of the city. He lived on the third of three stories, in a studio attached to a small rooftop garden. It was a stark space, furniture the bare minimum, and the only signs of personality were a small Kazakhstan flag, Otabek’s exhibition skates and folded costume, and a basket with weights and resistance bands for training. 

Yuri felt something special, standing in this space. As bare as it was, it was distinctly Otabek, a tacit secret he’d shared with Yuri.

Otabek closed the door behind him, then touched Yuri’s back as he stepped around him to the small counter that constituted the kitchen. Yuri walked forward, picking up a picture frame from the island - Otabek and what looked to be his parents, from several years ago. He set the picture frame down and stepped slowly through the studio. His fingertips dragged along the edge of the couch, then farther, to the simple black sheets of Otabek’s bed. There was a carving on the nightstand, a stylized eagle. 

Yuri paused at the glass door to the roof, looking at the overgrowth of garden, the chair sitting in the center of the green geode, wood shavings scattered around its legs.

His focus shifted, catching the reflection of Otabek coming up behind him in the glass. Their eyes met in the mirror image for only a moment before Yuri returned his attention outside. 

Otabek touched the edge of Yuri’s ear with the back of his index finger. He followed the curving cartilage until his finger hit Yuri’s jewelry, then brushed the dangling emeralds. Yuri tilted his head, offering.

“All this for me?” Otabek asked.

“Everything for you,” Yuri whispered. “Anything for you.”

Otabek’s hand fell, trailing down Yuri’s back until it reached his hip. 

“You never told me what you wanted,” Yuri said, his voice barely loud enough for Otabek to hear.

Anything, he would give _anything_ , for Otabek. 

He was getting his courage back. He twisted, feeling Otabek’s hand brush across his stomach as he did, and it stoked his fire in the worst way. Why else would Otabek have brought him here?

Yuri stepped closer, until they were nearly touching. He lifted to the tips of his toes, putting his lips just within Otabek’s reach, half-parted, looking at him through his lashes. 

He hovered there, waiting, hoping, begging.

And Otabek kissed him.

His lips were firm, almost hard, not chapped but … something else. He was solid as stone as he kissed Yuri, a monolith against Yuri’s vibrating energy.

It broke something inside of Yuri, unleashed all of his lust and desire and fantasy all at once. When Otabek stopped, Yuri gasped for more. He wanted to put his training to good use. He wanted to give himself completely. 

He stared at Otabek as he sank to his knees. _Let me show you how good I can be for you._ Yuri reached for Otabek’s belt.

Quicker than a flash, Otabek’s hand locked around Yuri’s wrist and wrenched it away.

“What are you doing?” Otabek asked.

Yuri knelt there, slightly slack-jawed, unable to process how quickly Otabek had moved or what exactly had happened or how it wasn't obvious what Yuri was doing, kneeling to worship his god.

“This isn’t what I want,” Otabek said, letting go of Yuri’s wrist. 

“Then what _do_ you want,” Yuri stressed, his embarrassment manifesting as anger.

Otabek turned away from Yuri, shaking his head.

“What?” Yuri trailed after him. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you, Otabek. Whatever it is, I’ll find a way to do it.”

“I don’t want _this_ ,” Otabek finally said, turning and gesturing to Yuri. 

“… Me?” Yuri stopped, frozen.

“No,” Otabek said. He breathed, and Yuri had never seen him so still before. “Not you.” He gestured again to Yuri. 

“My body?” 

Otabek didn’t deny it. Yuri curled in on himself, arm clasping his shoulder. 

“So you’re… straight?” he finally asked. He probably should have asked that months ago.

Something was happening to Otabek, but Yuri couldn’t tell what it was. It was like his whole body had just… shut down. His eyes looked blank, or they were empty, it was impossible to distinguish, but something _changed_.

“I don’t know,” Otabek finally said. “I’ve never wanted anyone that way.”

“Physically?”

“Sexually.”

Yuri’s world spun beneath him. Everything he’d imagined. Everything he’d worked for. He felt all of his fantasies fall to the wayside as he gazed at Otabek. 

He was _hurting_ , Yuri realized. That’s what the curve of his back and the hollowness of his eyes meant. Otabek was in pain. 

Suddenly, whatever Yuri had wanted to happen, whatever he’d dreamt about, all of that stopped mattering. 

He stepped forward and took Otabek’s hand.

“You still haven’t told me what you want,” Yuri murmured, looking up into Otabek’s eyes again. “I promise I’ll give it to you, if I can.”

Otabek looked confused, like no one had ever gotten past this point with him before. Like what was Yuri still doing here? 

“But I can’t give you what _you_ want,” Otabek said. 

“I want to be yours,” Yuri said. 

Otabek gazed at him, and Yuri didn't back down. His jaw was set, his eyes stern. He could feel Otabek weighing something, gauging, testing him. 

“…I want to hold you,” Otabek said. 

Yuri nodded, stepping close, and as he turned his back to press against Otabek’s chest he guided Otabek’s arms around him. A few seconds passed before Otabek took over, hugging Yuri close. His arms were so strong, all of Otabek was so strong; it was nothing like Victor or Yuuri.

“Like this?” Yuri whispered. 

Otabek’s arms shifted, and Yuri gasped as he rose up into the air, tucked against Otabek’s body. Otabek swung his other arm under Yuri’s legs, like he’d been practicing his lifts, and cradled Yuri to his chest. Yuri kept his eyes on Otabek’s, hardly able to look away, while his arms fell like a wreath around Otabek’s neck. Without a sound or sign of effort, Otabek carried Yuri to the couch and sat with him.

“Like this,” Otabek said.

Yuri slid his shoes off and arranged himself comfortably in Otabek’s lap. His fingers played with the buzzed hair at the back of Otabek’s head and he sank into the concreteness of Otabek’s embrace. 

“You kissed me,” Yuri said. “… Even though you don’t like that?”

Otabek looked at Yuri’s lips.

“I didn’t _not_ like it,” Otabek said, letting their lips brush together. “I wanted to do it for you. You looked…”

Yuri swallowed. “…?”

“I could feel how much you wanted it.”

Yuri blushed. “Can you blame me?” 

But instead of smiling Otabek looked away.

“This won’t work,” Otabek said. “It never does.”

“We’ll make it work,” Yuri said, cupping Otabek’s cheek and pulling his attention back.

“Yuri. You deserve to be satisfied. Not get stuck with someone who can’t give you what you want,” Otabek said. “I can’t ask you to give all that up for me.”

“Do I have to? I don’t even know how this works. But I know that when you really want something, you find a way. You fight for it.” Yuri made a fist.

Otabek shook his head, like he couldn't quite believe Yuri’s audacity. “You are a soldier.”

“You’re worth fighting for,” Yuri said, and when that had sank in: “So tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me more,” Yuri said, and a part of him cringed, because here he was, asking questions, checking in, doing exactly what he’d mocked Victor for doing. He’d have to apologize next time he saw him. “You aren’t attracted to people sexually, but… you kissed me because you wanted to. Would you touch me? Does it just not get you off or does it gross you out?”

Otabek was silent. The hand that had been under Yuri’s legs retracted and laid on top of them instead. His thumb brushed Yuri’s thigh, considering, and it took everything in Yuri’s power to control his arousal at even that simple touch.

“I don’t know,” Otabek said. 

“Well… we can figure it out together,” Yuri said. “No pressure.”

And when Otabek was still quiet, still silent, Yuri just relaxed in his arms again, laying his cheek on Otabek’s shoulder. “This can be enough for tonight, too. I just wanted to be with you.”

“You wanted to be mine.”

Yuri felt a swirl of emotions, and in the end just tightened his arms around Otabek’s neck and nodded. 

“I still do.”

Otabek slid his hand around Yuri’s waist, the other cupping the back of his head. He looked at Yuri’s mouth for a moment, then kissed Yuri again with that same stoic solidity. It was a small kiss. A first step. A tenderness carved into the stone.

“Then you are.”


	7. Adaptation

The next morning, Yuri cracked the bathroom door open, a puff of steam exuding alongside him, and met Otabek’s eyes as he looked up from his stretch. 

“Will it bother you if I’m naked?” Yuri asked. 

“I don’t think so,” Otabek said. 

Yuri used a towel to wipe down the newest layer of steam on his body, then stepped out into the comparative chill of Otabk’s studio. He’d woken up in Otabek’s arms, and it still felt like a dream. 

“I thought we could figure out what you don’t like,” Yuri said, cautiously optimistic, as he knelt beside Otabek.

Otabek raised his eyebrow. 

“You said you didn’t mind kissing me,” Yuri said, shrugging. “… Maybe you won’t mind doing other stuff? Or touching other places?”

“What if I don’t want to touch?”

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” Yuri said. “I just thought, if you’re worried you can’t give me what I want, we could at least figure out what you _can_ give me before you say it’s not enough.”

Otabek didn’t respond, so Yuri continued, more tentatively: “… did you mean you don’t want to touch me at all like this? Because I’m naked?” 

“No,” Otabek said. Yuri breathed while he waited for a little more than that. 

“Talk to me,” Yuri whispered. He hated how desperate he sounded but he wasn’t sure what to do. If Otabek didn’t talk to him, how could he know what was OK?

“I don’t want to do this like this,” Otabek said. He was closing up again, looking distant.

Yuri held up his palms, pacifying. “OK. OK, I’m sorry.” He was frustrated, angry, hurt, but he sat on those emotions and took a breath or two. “Maybe you should talk to Victor.”

“What?” Otabek asked.

Yuri couldn’t believe he was suggesting this. “He… knows a lot. And he’s good at talking about stuff like this. Maybe it’ll be easier if it’s not me. Less pressure.”

Otabek looked at Yuri like he was crazy. 

“I know,” Yuri said. “Trust me, I know. But…” 

Yuri rolled his shoulders, remembering Victor’s smile as he taught Yuri how to suck cock, as he fed the toys into his ass, as he did all of these things that should have made Yuri so uncomfortable, and yet… with Victor it had been easy. “I think it’ll help.”

More silence from Otabek, then finally a deeper exhale than normal. “Okay. I’ll fight for you, Yuri.”

And Yuri found himself smiling. Before he could doubt it, he leaned forward and kissed Otabek, shivering at the chill of the air washing over his skin. 

“It’ll help. I trust him.” 

—

Yuuri had spent the night pacing and fretting about Yuri, ever since that text, to the point that Victor had had to pull him onto the couch and stroke his hair and distract him with kisses. He’ll be fine, Victor kept saying, but Yuuri had grown too attached not to worry. 

The next morning they were at the rink when Otabek and Yuri walked in together, Otabek’s hand splayed out on Yuri’s lower back. Victor and Yuuri both grinned like idiots until Yuri made a face of death at them. The next moment, though, he smirked, straightening up and tossing his hair and walking right at Otabek’s side to the lockers, the way he’d always wanted to. 

Yuri went straight into practice mode on the ice, ignoring all of their inquisitive grins until lunch break came and he couldn’t avoid it anymore. 

“Well?” Yuuri pressed. 

Yuri smirked, eyes glinting. 

“That good?” Victor asked, coming alongside Yuri and ruffling his hair. “You had us worried.”

“Was it everything you imagined?” Yuuri smiled.

“It was… different,” Yuri said. His attitude shifted. “Actually… I thought you could talk to him?” He glanced to Victor. 

“Me?” 

It wasn’t until the end of the day that they followed up. The four of them walked out of the rink together, towards the thin lots where Otabek’s bike was parked. 

“Why don’t I take Yuuri out to that new teppanyaki place,” Yuri said, twisting to look at Otabek. Yuuri glanced over from where he was leaning on Victor, not understanding until Yuri gave him a very pointed stare. 

“Oh,” Yuuri said. “Yes. Victor. You should get that take out you like and see what Otabek thinks.” 

Victor stopped their group of four. 

“We really shouldn’t all tiptoe around this,” Victor said, turning to look at Yuri. “If you want Otabek and I to talk about your relationship that’s perfectly fine, but it’s nothing to be embarrassed or secret about.” He gave his all-encompassing grin. 

Otabek looked stunned, and Yuri blushed. 

“Now, Yuri, before Otabek and I go chat, how much does he know about us?” 

Yuri blushed brighter, sinking back towards Otabek. “I — not a lot.” 

Victor nodded. “I would feel much more comfortable if I didn’t have to avoid it while we talk.”

“What’s he talking about?” Otabek asked. 

Yuri had never been this red before. He kicked his shoe against the concrete. It all felt so stupid now. 

“Victor coached me,” Yuri finally growled. “…. They both did. So I’d be ready for you.” He hunched his shoulders, sinking into his hoodie. 

“Yuri,” Victor said, a mixture of chiding and encouragement. 

Yuri looked up at Otabek. “I thought you’d want to have sex, but I’d never done anything like that before. I really, really wanted to be good for you, so I …. I asked them to help train me.”

Otabek’s face was impressively blank. 

“You made love to them,” he said. 

Yuri didn’t know whether to laugh or choke. “What? We — we fucked. It was just sex.”

Yuuri sank under the weight of the awkwardness, but Victor was still smiling, somehow, a reassuring arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Do you still want to talk?” Victor asked Otabek, who had been staring at him, eyes dark. 

Yuri felt ashamed, and then felt angry that he felt ashamed. He hadn’t done anything wrong. So why did it feel so bad?

Otabek grabbed Yuri’s shoulder, squeezed it. “Go get dinner, Yuri.”

Victor let his fingers slide through Yuuri’s hair as he stepped away, gesturing Otabek to walk with him. 

——

“So,” Victor said, once they were settled in the apartment, food spread across the table, drinks in hand. “What did Yuri want us to talk about?”

Otabek didn’t respond immediately. He took a bite of the kebab, chewed, swallowed.

“I’m not attracted to him,” Otabek said. 

Victor had been expecting something about Yuri’s submission fantasies. Something about kink that Victor could clarify or coach or explain. 

“Do you want to be with him?” Victor asked. 

Otabek nodded. 

“That must be difficult, then.”

“I told him it wouldn’t work.”

“But he’s stubborn, isn’t he?” Victor smiled. “Difficult things can work, they just take more effort.” He shoveled food into his mouth, hardly waiting until he swallowed to continue. “So is it just Yuri or a broader lack of attraction?”

“I’ve never been attracted to anyone,” Otabek said. “Physically.” 

“That happens,” Victor agreed, licking one of his fingers and eyeing Otabek. “Is it a lack of physical attraction or a disgust at the idea of physicality?”

Otabek stared at Victor, who was just talking as if all of this was normal, as if this was standard dinner conversation. ‘That happens’? It does? 

“I’ve never wanted to make love to anyone,” Otabek said. 

Victor set his food down, leaning forward and resting his cheek on his fist. “You call it making love and yet you don’t want to do it. Are you worried you’re not a good lover because you don’t want to make love?” 

Otabek had never thought about it so succinctly. To hear Victor say it, so casually… 

Otabek’s appetite vanished; his face fell. How was he supposed to love someone fully and completely if he didn’t want that part?

“Love isn’t sex,” Victor said, noticing Otabek’s deeper-than-usual silence. “Sex can be a way of expressing love but there are so many ways to be passionate, romantic, and loving that don’t involve dicks and asses.”

Victor chuckled. “Besides, you’re lucky.”

Otabek looked up, brow furrowed. 

“Yuri is very kinky,” Victor said. “Depending on what you’re comfortable with, you can satisfy him sexually without doing anything to or with him physically.”

“I like holding him,” Otabek said. 

“Ah, so it’s not all physicality,” Victor said. “When does it get uncomfortable for you?”

Another mouthful of food, even if he wasn’t hungry, because it gave Otabek time to think.

“He was naked this morning. I felt like he expected me to touch him,” Otabek said, with a pinch in his brow that made it clear the experience hadn’t been pleasant. “But last night he asked if he could spend the night. We got in bed and he was only in his briefs. I held him until he fell asleep.”

“It’s the expectation, perhaps, then? It gets uncomfortable when you feel obligated to be physical?” Victor asked. 

Otabek nodded slowly. 

“What about being touched?” Victor asked.

“I don’t mind,” Otabek said. “Except my dick.”

“Ass?”

Otabek shuffled uncomfortably. “Probably not.” He swallowed, taking a deep drink. “…You said I could satisfy him.”

Victor nodded. “There are plenty of options.”

He took a drink himself, then leaned forward and began, splaying out his fingers and touching them one by one as he listed his ideas.

“If you don’t want to touch him at all, he has a few toys that we gave him. For Yuri, his arousal seems very mentally driven. He loves having someone else in control of him, telling him what to do, and having his body used. You could instruct him how to use the toys on himself, how to touch himself, when _not_ to touch himself. You sit in a chair and act as the puppet master, he gets off on the physical manipulation and the mental idea of you being in control of him.”

He touched his next finger.

“If you want to touch him, but don’t want to use your body, you could actually use the toys on him. He’s very receptive to them, and we trained him to get off without having his cock touched; though, you could always let him touch himself while you use the toys on his ass.”

The next finger.

“If you don’t want to deal with it at all, and don’t mind him getting sex elsewhere, you could let him come visit us on occasion when he’s particularly needing. You’re even welcome to come along, if Yuuri’s comfortable with that, but he probably will be. And if you don’t want it to be someone he knows, there are always sex workers.”

Another finger, undeterred by the face Otabek made.

“If you find you don’t mind touching him, then it’s easy: just jerk him off when he gets horny, or give him a blow job, or finger his ass; he’ll be more than happy.”

Victor set his hand down on the table, shrugging. “And if none of those appeal to you, there’re more. What do you think? Oh! And if it’s the expectation that’s making you uncomfortable, remember you don’t have any obligation to deal with his dick, especially if he gets hard. If it makes you uncomfortable, just ask him to go take care of it. Maybe if he’s come recently, you’ll be better able to do the things you like - like cuddling - without worrying about anything more.”

Otabek had gotten stiller and stiller throughout the explanations. He was silent for over a minute, but unlike Yuri, Victor felt no obligation to fill in the quiet. He had a pleasant expression on his face, occasionally sipping his drink, and just waited until Otabek was ready.

“…. I don’t know how to do any of those things,” Otabek finally said. 

Victor shrugged. “Neither did Yuri a few months ago. No one does their first few times. You can figure it out or you can ask for help. I guarantee it’s easier than a quadruple flip.” 

“That’s physics,” Otabek said. 

“There’s science to this too,” Victor said. He took another drink. 

Otabek looked to the window, staring towards the rink in the distance.

“Why did you help him?” Otabek asked finally. 

“Because he asked, and Yuuri and I both liked the idea of it,” Victor said. 

Otabek shuffled. “I want to be able to give back to him.”

“Are you asking for help?”

Otabek stared at him. 

“The one where I didn’t have to touch him…” Otabek said. 

Victor nodded, “Where you command him?”

Another slow acknowledgment. 

“How would that…” Otabek started.

“Work?” Victor asked, grinning. “Well…”

——

Living for the ice meant Yuri didn’t get to spend time alone with Otabek for the next several days.

Yuri thought his practice schedule was rigorous, but Otabek got up earlier, stayed at the rink later, and even his rest periods were spent watching skating videos or heading out on his bike, which limited conversation and interaction. It didn’t help that their rest days didn’t align.

“How did everything go with Victor?” Yuri asked during one of their breaks. “Did it help?”

“I think so,” Otabek said, and he set his hand on Yuri’s lower back, moving his fingers in a slow circle, and refused to elaborate. 

Yuri trembled, and that night he laid in his bed alone, tossing at the memory of the touch and the promise in Otabek’s eyes.

His hand crept down his stomach, moving over pale flesh, then his dark briefs. 

His cock was waiting for his touch, hard and pulsing and eager after days without. But Yuri didn’t stop there. His wrist slid alongside his dick as his hand went farther down, legs tucking up, until he could reach his ass. 

“Otchka…” Yuri murmured. He rubbed the cleft of his ass through the fabric, spending extra attention on his hole. He remembered the way that Yuuri’s had fluttered under Victor’s touch, how hungry Yuuri had been for that stimulus. With his lips opening in a silent gasp, Yuri pressed his finger right against his hole, pushing some of the fabric inside himself. 

It had been days. It was too good.

Yuri shoved the briefs down his legs and off. Naked, he let himself sprawl across his sheets, just sliding his fingertips along the planes of his body for a moment, waking up his nerves. He had plenty of time, and plenty of images of Otabek racing through his head. When it felt like his whole body was tingling, he twisted to the side and reached into the bottom drawer of the nightstand.

He didn’t bother with the lube. Even if Otabek couldn’t enjoy his training, he had other ways to put it to good use. 

The aneros that Yuuri and Victor had bought him was untested, though his memories of their play session nearly had him salivating. Yuri rolled to his side, one leg forward, and brought the tip of the toy to his asshole. 

He teased himself first, dangling the tip like a feather over his sensitive skin. 

_You have to need it_ , Victor had said, and Yuri imagined him - or was it Otabek? - holding the toy and taunting his body with it. 

Brush, brush, the silicon tip played over his asshole. He pushed the muscle outward against it whenever it passed, biting his lip, simultaneously so eager for more and knowing he had to work himself. Knowing he had to drive himself farther. 

He inhaled, exhaled, while the tip of the toy glided from his tail bone, down over his asshole, to the softness of his balls, and back again.

“Please, Otchka,” Yuri whispered, “Please.” 

_Wait_ , he imagined Otabek saying. _Not yet_. For a moment it was Victor, smirking: _You have to need it_.

Yuri’s cock jumped against his stomach but he refused to touch it. He circled the tip of the toy around his muscle, his other hand digging into the sheets, and pressed the toy just enough to make his asshole dimple. His ass opened, pulsed to reach for it, and Yuri pulled it away. 

_Ah ah,_ Victor chided him. Then Yuuri’s voice: _Be patient, little doll_.

“Please,” Yuri whispered.

“Otchka, give it to me,” he begged, his voice so quiet as to almost be inaudible. 

He saw Otabek’s stern, dark eyes, his sheer impassivity. He could make Yuri wait an eternity. 

But he cared for Yuri, and Yuri brought the tip back to his ass, pushing it against the muscle again until it opened. He fed less than a centimeter in and froze there, flexing his ass, testing his body around the invader. 

He released a heavy breath, eyes closing, and took it out again. 

Tucking his top leg up, he dragged the toy along his skin, over his balls again, then up the underside of his cock. He sank into the touch and shivered with it. 

“Otchka…” 

His ass was tightening of its own volition as the toy descended again. 

“Please, I need it.”

Yuri bit his lip, grimacing as the silicon spread his body open. Two centimeters this time, then another, and —

_Easy, Kotënok_ , Victor was purring to him, touching his hair and petting his back. Yuri paused, holding the toy in place. _You know we’ll give you what you need_. But Victor wouldn’t just let him have it. Victor would make him work for it.

And Otabek… 

Yuri imagined him watching with a removed, scientific interest, trying to see how little he could give before Yuri fell apart. Yuri imagined Otabek holding the toy steady, watching the desire bloom in red flushes along his cheeks and abdomen. 

Yuri rotated the toy, twisting it in place without letting it go any deeper. There was enough friction without the lube that it pulled on his muscle, skidding along the silicon. 

_Why?_ Otabek asked. 

“It makes me feel good,” Yuri murmured, and he pushed the toy in deeper.

Deeper.

It touched that incredible place inside of him, sinking down at long last, and Yuri let go as the toy hilted in his ass. 

“Nn.” 

Otabek was watching him, watching as Yuri tightened his body around the toy. The beauty of this particular style of toy was the way that every time Yuri tensed, it forced the shaft harder against his prostate. Just by slowly flexing and relaxing his muscles he could fuck the hard silicon against that dense bundle of nerves inside him.

_Don’t touch yourself_ , Victor said, and Yuri lifted his arms up above his head, grasping the curve of his mattress as if Victor had pinned him there. He rolled onto his stomach, and the simple grazing of the sheets on his cock made him gasp. 

_Don’t cheat_. It was Otabek this time. Otabek with his hand on Yuri’s hip, pulling him off the sheets until his ass was in the air and his knees were tucked underneath him. His cock hung between his legs, bobbing with blood, and the S of the toy fit beautifully into the cleft of his body. 

“Otchka, tell me…” Yuri asked.

_Now_ , Otabek said. 

Yuri clenched, the cheeks of his ass smacking together, the toy punching against his prostate. He held it there for a shuddering second, mouth open, eyes winced shut.

Then he relaxed, breathing again, fisting the sheets where he imagined Victor holding him down. The curve of the toy pushed against his taint, an extra little stimulation, as he recovered.

_Again_ , Otabek said. 

Yuri tensed. The toy was divine. It struck him in exactly the right place - right where Yuuri’s cock hit, right where Victor’s fingers played, right where he _needed_ it. 

He imagined Otabek’s hand on the small of his back, blooming outward, keeping him steady as his body trembled. 

_Again_.

Again. Yuri pressed his face into the sheets to muffle his moan as the toy pushed. 

_Faster_ , and Yuri started a rhythm of smaller clenches, just quick pulses of his muscle to rub the silicon tip against his innards. 

“Oh.. f-fuck,” Yuri whispered, pushing his ass back against the toy and groaning when it did nothing. He lowered his ass back down, body flattening against the sheets, and let himself rest while the toy sat inside of him. He felt a line of cool, sticky wetness as his cock brushed against his leg. Had he leaked so much already?

_Get up_ , he heard Otabek say, and Yuri rose to his knees again. He reached back with one hand, pretending it was Otabek’s, and grabbed the base of the toy. 

“I trained for you,” Yuri whispered. “Take me.” 

He pulled the toy out, his ass craving it, and then thrust it down in again at the same time as he clenched. That extra pressure on his prostate made his cock leap, painfully hard. 

He needed to come. 

“Please, Otchka,” Yuri begged, softer than a sigh, “please fuck me.”

He wouldn’t stop until he came, he decided, and he slid a finger through the S of the toy and started to pull, rhythmically, each time slamming the toy inside of him right up against those nerves. 

“Oh fuck,” Yuri gasped again. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…”

It felt like he was getting fucked. It felt like he was getting _pounded_. Inside, the pressure was everything he’d wanted, and he didn’t let up as those internal waves of pleasure started to crest. 

“Yes,” he begged. “Otchka!”

It was Otabek moving the toy inside him. Otabek inside of him. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

He wanted to grab his cock, just end it because it was so intense. His hips rocked back, beyond his control, and he just pushed the toy deeper, harder, thrust after thrust after thrust and he was so close, god he was so close. 

“Fuck, _please_ ,” Yuri strained. 

He widened his legs, forcing the toy as far as it would go, offering all of him, and never once stopping his hand. 

_Come_ , Otabek commanded. 

And Yuri fell to pieces.

—— 

He woke up the next morning, sticky, the toy still inside of him, and moaned at the feeling. 

“Otchka,” he mumbled, and reached over for his phone. 

_I am yours_ , he sent.

The little circle changed colors: delivered, read, typing… 

_Yes_.

_I want to be with you_ , Yuri typed.

_Tonight._

_Pick me up?_

_9pm._

_Overnight?_

_Yes._

Yuri shivered, curling up on his side just staring at his phone. His thumb idly brushed the window up and down as he read Otabek’s words again and again. 

For a moment the little circle changed to ’typing’ again and Yuri’s heart leapt. He leaned forward, staring at those tiny little periods, the ellipsis that suddenly meant the world to him. 

It grayed out, then disappeared entirely, and Yuri cursed softly. 

It didn’t matter. 

Whatever it was Otabek had to say, Yuri would hear it tonight.


	8. The Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I'm finally back! I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to post. I had most of it written but got totally distracted by the other fic (and like clockwork, about half the month I want to write horrific smut and the other half it's all fluff or angst). On the positive side, we're back to the smut (still with some lingering plot, ugh), and hopefully you'll get a few rapid updates!
> 
> 2) Writing Otabek is the most difficult thing in the world. I know I took extensive liberties with Victor/Yuuri/Yuri's sexual expressiveness but I tried to stay relatively close to their emotional tenors in the show. With Otabek I am like, completely hopeless. I apologize for botching him so brutally.
> 
> 3) The ace spectrum is crazy broad!!! I've spoken to several folks but if you feel I'm doing a particular disservice, I'm happy to chat on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nomanono).

“Where are you going?” Yuri called as Otabek and Victor left the ice together. Victor twirled on his blades, grinning at the pout on Yuri’s face, and tsked as he brought a finger up underneath Yuri’s chin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Victor smirked. 

Behind him, Otabek had his normally placid expression.

“Victor! You said we’d get lunch,” Yuuri said as he skated up alongside Yuri. 

Victor’s eyes widened. 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Yuuri sighed. 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Victor cooed. “I told Otabek we could work on something.”

Both Yuris leaned forward, eager, and Victor couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re both insatiable, aren’t you? Go back to practice. Your quad salchow combination was looking sloppy, Yuuri, and that spread eagle would make Lilia cringe if she saw it, Yurio. You could both use more definition to your Biellmanns, too, and —“

“Just leave!” Yuri said, pushing on Victor’s chest, and Victor winked. He pulled his skate guards on, clicking them into place with a decidedly lewd look that made Yuuri groan and skate back out onto the ice. Then he walked alongside Otabek back to the lockers and away. 

“They’re up to something,” Yuri growled as he came up beside Yuuri. When Yuuri didn’t respond: “Why are you so distracted?”

Yuuri blushed. “It’s nothing.”

“Tell me!” Yuri said, blade biting the ice to spray Yuuri’s feet.

“Victor asked me to do something special with him tonight. I don’t do it usually, and it’s a bit uncomfortable, and I was just —“

“What is it,” Yuri asked, suddenly completely in Yuuri’s personal space, eyes burning with curiosity.

Yuuri turned an even brighter red. He glanced around the rink, but Yakov was busy with the juniors and the other skaters were at the opposite end. 

“He wants to put his mouth on me,” Yuuri mumbled, canting his head back ever so slightly towards his ass. “I’ve got to get cleaned up for him first, though, and the water always makes me…” He fidgeted.

Yuri’s head was tilted to the side, trying to figure out what Yuuri meant, and when he realized his eyes widened. 

“You do that?”

“Yes…” Yuuri said, still stuttering in embarrassment. “It makes me feel clean. I don’t like him doing that if I don’t feel clean.”

Yuri fisted his hand in Yuuri’s shirt. “I want to try.”

“You have a boyfriend now!” Yuuri said, trying to push Yuri off but he was like a leech. 

“I want to be perfect for him!” Yuuri dug his toe pick into the ice, trying to pull away, but Yuri just flicked his down in return and the two wound up struggling there, anchored together, until Yakov yelled at them to knock it off.

When Otabek and Victor returned, Otabek was carrying a single, simple bag, which became all that Yuri could think about for the rest of the day. When he went home, he asked Lilia to braid his hair and help with the rest of his preparations for his date. She humored him, but insisted that if he was going to keep getting dolled up he should start learning to do it himself. The lesson began with moisturizer, foundation and coverup and ended with eyeliner and jewelry, but at least it kept Yuri’s mind off the bag. 

Yuri stayed close to Otabek on the ride, arms wrapped at Otabek’s waist, and tried not to imagine what might be waiting at the apartment because he wasn’t sure he could hide an erection. Of course, that immediately got him hard, too much material from the day floating around in his head and too much heat emanating off Otabek’s body. 

Otabek never mentioned it, just led Yuri up the stairs to the studio when they arrived. Once inside, Otabek’s hand moved from Yuri’s back to his hip, stopping him just within the door. Yuri froze, a decadent shiver spreading out from the point of contact. Otabek’s fingers slipped under his shirt, finding the pale stretch of his skin, and Yuri held perfectly still. 

_Take anything you want_ , Yuri thought. _Touch anywhere. I am yours. This body is yours. This body that I poured my life into: it belongs to you now._

His entire world had narrowed to Otabek’s fingertips. They followed the indentation of Yuri’s hips around to his stomach and crested the muscles there.

Yuri remembered to breathe and forced himself to control his exhale. 

The touch slipped from under his shirt and reached up, pulling off Yuri’s backpack, which was set aside, then his jacket, and finally the hoodie underneath. Otabek hung them by the door, then his hand was on Yuri’s back again, guiding him to the bed. 

“Sit.”

Yuri’s legs folded underneath him automatically at the command, perching on the edge of the bed and facing Otabek. 

Otabek came right up him, Yuri’s eyes even with his crotch, and bent over him to grab the bottom hem of his shirt. Yuri turned to a rag doll for a moment as Otabek pulled the fabric off and cast it to the side without care. 

“Shoes,” Otabek said, and they were gone, slipped off Yuri’s feet and pushed beneath the bed. “Socks.” Vanished. 

Yuri felt something terrible and delicious as Otabek’s eyes washed over him, over the pants now painfully tight for Yuri’s straining erection, over the naked sculpture of his chest where his nipples were budded from the cold, and up to Yuri’s eyes. Yuri could only hold his gaze for a second before he blushed and looked down, laying an arm shyly over his chest. 

“We’re going to play a game,” Otabek said. 

Yuri nodded, staring at Otabek’s thighs. _Play with me_.

“You’re going to obey me,” Otabek continued.

Again Yuri nodded, his tongue glancing over his lips, mouth suddenly dry.

“If you want to stop, say so.” 

_Trust means always having a way out, without punishment or shame or repercussion,_ Victor had said.

Yuri gave a final nod, eyes rising slowly up Otabek’s body. They made it as far as his lips before Yuri felt the blush rising through his body again.

“Otabek,” Yuri murmured. He lifted his eyes that final inch, glancing at Otabek for a fraction of a second. “You can stop too, OK? Whenever you need to.”

Yuri didn’t hear a response, and he blushed, thinking he’d broken the moment. But then Otabek’s hand was under his chin, tilting his face up to lay a kiss on his forehead. That was his only response, but it spoke far more gratitude and reassurance than any sort of verbal one.

“Stand up.”

_You can command him to do anything: take off his clothes, take a certain position, move the way you think is most beautiful. It doesn’t matter what the command is, it matters that you’re commanding him._

Otabek found he didn’t want to command Yuri to strip. The raw sexual energy coming off Yuri was strong enough that even Otabek could sense it, feel it like a tingle in the air, even if he felt nothing in return. Yuri was already enjoying this, and Otabek found he wanted to see if he could make Yuri enjoy it even more. 

“Look at me.”

This command was the hardest; it was the first that Yuri didn’t obey instantly. It took him a moment to collect himself, to drag his eyes up Otabek’s chest. When Yuri finally met his eyes, his cheeks were red and his lashes fluttered but the determination was the same Otabek had always seen, even years and years ago. 

Otabek bent and kissed Yuri. Found that he enjoyed kissing Yuri. As he did, he brought his hands down to Yuri’s pants and grabbed the button. It was odd, taking off pants from the other way around, but Yuri was making soft gasping noises against his lips and Otabek took that for success, helping even out the terror in the back of his mind. How many partners had he disappointed in the bedroom? 

None as important to him as Yuri.

When he was finished his hands went back to Yuri’s hips, pausing for a moment on his skin ( _Calm down. It’s OK. There’s no obligation. This happens._ ), before pushing the tight material down Yuri’s legs. 

“Step out.”

Breaking the kiss to give the command, Otabek watched Yuri follow through, watched the way he made sure his toes pointed as he lifted them out of the narrow openings. Yuri rested his weight on the knuckles of his right foot when he finished, poised in nothing but tented briefs. 

_If it makes you uncomfortable, ask him to take care of it_ , Victor had said, but Otabek didn’t actually want to use that option. Just knowing it existed helped ease that throat-tight fear. 

And another emotion appeared, one he hadn’t expected: Pride. It was his fault that Yuri was hard right now. He’d been giving his partner pleasure. Perhaps not the way most people did. Perhaps not with seductive touches and grinding pelvises. But Yuri was different, and Otabek was different too, and maybe this ridiculous notion of the two of them together could work out after all. 

Otabek smirked. He reached to Yuri’s briefs but instead of taking them off just pulled the elastic band away and then let it snap against Yuri’s hip. 

“Hn!” Yuri gasped.

“Get on the bed, take these off, and show me what Victor taught you to get my attention,” Otabek said. 

The more time Otabek had spent with Victor the less that initial sting of jealousy had hurt. Now, he could use it to his advantage. Victor had learned all the little things Yuri loved, and Otabek fully intended to use that knowledge to drive Yuri crazy. 

_I’ve never seen anyone as eager in bed as he is_ , Victor had said. _You’re a lucky man._

Perhaps not the kind of man Yuri hoped for, but Otabek was determined to find a way to satisfy both their needs.

Yuri was nearly trembling as he slid his briefs over his hips and piled them with his pants and socks. What had Victor taught him? Victor had taught him to go slow, to display himself, to be the most delicious piece of meat in the market. 

So Yuri prowled to the center of the bed on hands and knees like a tiger. He kept his back to Otabek as he knelt, tucking his feet beneath his ass, toes overlapping. He settled his weight onto his heels, rocking his hips to sway his body as he got comfortable. His hands dragged up his sides, nails coming out at the end to leave little pink lines on his snowy skin. When his fingers wound up in his hair he pulled on the band that held it back. His hair was naturally straight and fell out of the braids easily, a simple comb of his hands and a shake of his head and he looked ready for the bedroom, gazing over his shoulder at Otabek through his bangs.

Otabek sat on the couch, watching.

Yuri was handsome, but Otabek never felt anything passed that, though he could imagine Yuri’s look might bring other people to their knees. That seduction crashed against the hard panel of Otabek’s indifference like waves against a breakwater.

“Do you want more?” Otabek asked. 

_You can highlight his desires by asking him about them. Ask him what he wants, even if you already know. Make him say it out loud._

Yuri nodded from his position on the bed, torso twisting to get a better look at Otabek. 

“Say it,” Otabek commanded.

“I want more,” Yuri growled. 

“What else did Victor teach you?” Otabek asked. 

That blush appeared on Yuri’s face again. 

“He taught me how to take a cock dry,” Yuri said. 

_You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, but I think it’s the best word. It’s raw and powerful. ‘Cock’._ Victor had said, laughing as he made a fist like Yuri always did. _But he’ll sense it if you’re uncomfortable with it. It has to feel natural. Confident. You should practice._

And so Otabek had looked at Victor and the two had said ‘cock’ to each other until Otabek - _Otabek_ \- started smirking and even let out a snort. 

Still, the thought of saying it now made his stomach flip, and he found a way around it.

“Show me,” Otabek said. “Under the pillow.”

Yuri’s mouth ran dry. He stretched forward, hand drifting between the icy cool sheets and pillowcase until they touched on something firm and stubbled. 

He pulled out the toy, and Otabek saw the way the muscles of his ass tightened at the sight of it. It was thirty centimeters of black silicon, every six centimeters a different texture. The tip was domed and smooth, but after that there were concentric ridges, then bumps, then racing stripes and broad nodules. It wasn’t too thick - not even as thick as Victor, Yuri thought, holding it in both his palms, but it was long and those textures were overwhelming. 

“Do you like it?” Otabek asked, and Yuri shook himself out of his stupor and turned back to Otabek, a shy little waif for a split second before his focus returned and he attuned himself to impressing his boyfriend. 

“Yes,” Yuri said.

“Victor thought you would enjoy the textures,” Otabek said.

Yuri blushed, but held the toy closer to his chest, fingers exploring the indentations as he imagined what they would feel like. Or perhaps remembering something he’d done before.

“He said he’s never seen anyone as eager to learn as you,” Otabek continued. He shifted in the seat, gestured to the pale boy on his sheets. “Show me.”

The room should have felt cool, naked as Yuri was, but Otabek’s words had heated his entire body and now he seemed to pulse with every beat of his heart. He collected the pillows, laying them out closer to the center of the bed, and then laid back on them, ass facing Otabek. He tucked his legs into an M, toes pointed, and brought the tip of the toy between his legs. 

It wasn’t unlike his fantasy the previous night.

The toy felt so much bigger between his legs than it looked. He’d thought it would be easier, thinner than Victor, but as he started to push he felt the sharp discomfort of tense muscles. 

_Otabek wouldn’t stop if he was taking you_ , Yuri thought. _Just like Victor didn’t_.

Yuri gasped in pain as he shoved the toy in, past the resistance, crying out as the first section disappeared entirely into his body. 

“Ah-hnn,” Yuri cringed, curling onto his side but keeping pressure on the toy so it wouldn’t slide out. He bit his knuckles, then pushed the toy farther. The next section was the concentric ridges, and as the first one stretched out Yuri’s muscle his pain started to fade to pleasure. 

_If you let his kink develop, I could see him embracing more extreme forms of sexual pleasure. He wants to be used. He’s willing to push himself. The possibilities are near limitless._ Otabek remembered Victor’s words as he watched Yuri with the toy, trying to understand how Yuri could be simultaneously in pain and enjoying himself. In pain and wanting to continue. 

Every time Yuri’s body stretched around one of the rings he let out a little utterance: a gasp, a moan, a shuddering grunt. And he was taking it slowly, forcing himself to feel each one. 

His eyes alternated between gazing into the distance and staring at Otabek, who was more than content to stare back. Yuri always shied away first, redoubling his effort and guiding more centimeters inside.

_Just like on the ice, Yuri has the potential for greatness_ , Otabek thought as Yuri came to the next texture, dozens of little nodules, like beads lacing the length. Each one caught on Yuri’s body, pulled it, then released as it snuck inside of him. Yuri pulled the toy out after the first centimeter of the nodules, only to push it in again with a moan. 

He liked this texture.

_And just like on the ice, he’ll need someone to train him, and he’ll need space to perform_ , Otabek thought. 

“Take more, Yuri,” Otabek said. Perhaps he wasn’t the right person to train Yuri, but he could push him farther. “That whole section.”

Yuri’s body shivered at Otabek’s words, and the next instant the section was inside Yuri, and Yuri was gasping, on his back once more with his legs spread, one pointed to the ceiling, and the view of his body crystal clear. Otabek watched Yuri’s ass clench around the toy sticking obscenely out of him, held in place by Yuri’s white-knuckled hand. 

“Can you take the next one?” Otabek asked. 

“Yes,” Yuri said immediately. Arousal sounded like exertion: his voice husky and breathy. “Do you want me to?”

Otabek opened his mouth to reply but then hesitated, letting Yuri anticipate. Finally: “Do it.”

“Sir,” Yuri responded, and Otabek would have been surprised by the title if he hadn’t heard Yuri use the same quick, willful acknowledgment to Lilia. 

Perhaps that was a better way to think of it. Yuri was already used to two coaches on the ice.

Why not in bed as well?

Otabek could manage him. He was confident that if he didn’t feel pressured to touch or be touched he could command Yuri and run him through his paces. 

Victor could take care of Yuri’s other needs.

As Otabek watched, Yuri started to push in the next section. This one was easier. The ridges followed the length of the toy, so once they’d stretched Yuri open he simply had to press them deep. But he didn’t make it all the way before he paused, breathing, his eyes flashing.

Otabek raised his brow.

“It’s longer than I’ve had before,” Yuri explained. _Longer than Victor_. 

“You said you could take it,” Otabek reminded him, and Yuri, flushed, did.

He winced again as it sank in, then lay there, panting, filled. There was only one section left, then the flare, but Yuri didn’t think his body could take anymore. He felt like he was being split in half, and thanked god the silicon had some give to it instead of being perfectly rigid. It still _hurt_ but the high of performing for Otabek was far more powerful. Yuri’s fingers held the flare carefully, pressed on the bottom to keep it inside him as the natural pressure inside tried to push the toy back out. 

“Good,” Otabek said. 

_He loves praise. He loves being told he’s beautiful. But make sure that he’s earned it. The moment it becomes empty praise it’ll lose all of its power._

Yuri glowed. 

Feeling empowered, Otabek rose from the seat and approached the bed. He stood at the edge while Yuri trembled in the center. 

“Get on your hands and knees.”

“ _Sir_ ,” Yuri moaned.

When Yuri was there, Otabek knelt behind him on the bed. His hands landed on Yuri’s hips and pulled his body back, as easily as if he were a paper doll. The fingers that had been stabilizing the toy inside of him ran into the fabric of Otabek’s slacks. “Let go,” Otabek commanded, and the hand disappeared. He watched, fascinated, as the toy was pushed out a few centimeters before the flare came to rest against Otabek’s abdomen. Then Otabek, his hands still digging into Yuri’s hips, thrust forward. 

He was fully clothed, with no sign of arousal, but the forward motion of his body shoved the toy back into Yuri, and Yuri, overwhelmed by the familiar position, by the allusion to what he so desired, cried out in pain and joy and satisfaction as the toy slid home, until the flare was only a few centimeters from Yuri’s cheeks.

Otabek pulled back, and again Yuri’s body started to reject the toy. First the hilly final section, then the vertical ridges, then those tantalizing bumps. Otabek scooted forward and pulled Yuri to him, watching fascinated as he pushed the bumps back into Yuri’s body. They were spaced unevenly, like a little music box, each note stroking Yuri intimately. 

And the music Yuri made, writhing on that toy, was priceless. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Otabek asked. He pet Yuri’s thigh almost like a dog as he continued the little thrusts of his hips, feeding those bumps in, then out, then in. It was strangely mesmerizing to watch.

“Please,” Yuri begged.

“I said are you enjoying yourself,” Otabek stressed, and Yuri gasped as he thrust almost the entire toy back inside. 

“Yes!” Yuri half-screamed. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Otabek pressed forward, and Yuri cried out but never asked him to stop as the final six centimeters wedged Yuri’s body open. The flare settled against Yuri’s cheeks and Yuri shuddered, gasping for breath, begging quietly.

_Tell him what you’re doing to him. Always remind him how he’s being used._ Victor had grinned, then, and listed a few examples that, if Otabek were the type to do so, would have made him blush. 

“It’s in,” Otabek said. “All of it.”

Yuri nodded, shuddering, trying to breathe as his body shifted on the sheets. 

“Are you going to let me do whatever I want to you?” Otabek asked. 

That line sent the most powerful shudder through Yuri. He nodded, and Otabek’s hand came down on his thigh, hard, reminding. Yuri yelped again, clenching on the toy embedded in him. 

“Yes!”

“Yes what?” Otabek asked, letting the toy ease out again.

“Yes, Sir!” 

The way Yuri was quaking, Otabek almost worried for him, but his eyes were lust-glazed and so Otabek continued, remembering the words Victor said Yuri loved:

“Will you keep training for me? Make yourself perfect for me?” 

“Yes,” he moaned, “Yes, Sir!”

Otabek pushed the toy all the way in again, holding it there with his body weight, and felt as Yuri struggled to accommodate the mass of it within him. His knuckles were digging into the sheets, feet curled as if to reach Otabek’s calves. A few more thrusts, not letting the toy slip out in-between, just letting the vibrations of the thrust carry through the length of the buried toy. Yuri had tears in his eyes as he cried out.

“Sir!”

“You’ll need proper coaching,” Otabek said. “Victor will keep working you. Do you want that?”

He never imagined he’d be able to make someone so wild, just with a few words, but at the mention of Victor and with another pulse of Otabek’s hips, Yuri’s body tensed, shuddering. He cried out “Yes, Sir!” and gasped and it took Otabek several moments to realize that Yuri had come. 

…Otabek had made him come. 

Otabek flushed in disbelief. He’d hoped. He’d imagined. But he’d never… 

Oh, God, had he actually done it? 

He shifted backwards, watching the toy slide out, and held it until the last, smooth taper was released. Yuri collapsed to his side, the brightest blush on his cheeks, evidence of his pleasure splattered on Otabek’s sheets. 

He had. He’d done it. Relief crashed down on Otabek’s shoulders like a waterfall. Years of terror about failing as a partner suddenly gone. Even if Victor said it didn’t matter, those gentle words couldn’t erase a lifetime of internalized doubt and expectation and that little voice that told him he was broken. And Otabek knew it shouldn’t mean so much - he didn’t even think it had - but he couldn’t breathe because he’d finally done it, and oh… fuck… he was OK. 

He was OK. 

Otabek didn’t realize that he’d frozen, staring, until Yuri spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri whispered. “I never… I’m usually not so fast… I…”

Otabek brushed his thumb across Yuri’s lips, silencing him. He took the toy and disappeared to the kitchen, returning with paper towels and a glass of water. The latter he tried to hand off to Yuri, but Yuri took the paper towels instead and started to clean up his mess, still red.

“… Did you mean it?” Yuri asked.

Otabek watched him, watched the lingering signs of pleasure in his flushed chest and spent length.

“About Victor?” Otabek asked, trying to get the surge of relief under control. “Yes. I can exercise you. Test you. I can't teach.”

Yuri sat back when he’d done what he could to the sheets and finally took the water from Otabek.

“...if you want him to,” Otabek said. 

“I want to be perfect for you. I want to learn everything I can,” Yuri growled. Those same phrases Victor had told him about. That same desire to be…

“…and be my plaything?” Otabek raised his brow. 

Yuri blushed. 

“I… “ he became suddenly self conscious and embarrassed. “What do _you_ want? You did all this for me, but—“ 

Otabek sat back against the headboard and motioned for Yuri to join him. He’d never seen Yuri move so quickly into his arms. 

“Victor talked to me about your fantasies. Helped me understand them,” Otabek said. 

_You’re very quiet, but the only way this will work is if you’re willing to talk to him about this_ , Victor had said. Otabek swallowed, so unused to disclosing even simple things, much less such intimate ones.

“I like the idea of you being mine,” Otabek started. “Showing you off. Making other people jealous.” 

Yuri was blushing in his arms, hiding his face underneath Otabek’s neck, listening, heart racing.

“…But not all the time. I want to date, have tea, talk about skating. And the ice always comes first." 

Yuri nodded in agreement. Their careers were far too important.

"In bed, though… I think I could be your keeper.”

And even spent, Yuri’s dick jumped at the words. 

Otabek felt that swell of pride again, that hope, at long last, that this would actually work. 

“Well?” he asked.

And Yuri threw his arms around Otabek’s neck, sinking into his lap and holding him tightly. 

“ _Yes_.”

— 

The next day Otabek and Yuri walked into the rink together, Otabek’s hand on Yuri’s back, and in the lockers Yuri ran up to Yuuri and leapt on him.

“Ah!” Yuuri yelped, frozen like a starfish at the sudden affection. 

“Who are you and where is Yurio?” Victor teased, ruffling Yuri’s hair. Victor glanced over at Otabek, who gave him nothing more than a knowing nod, and Victor’s face split into a smile. 

“Excited, then, Yurio?” Victor asked. Yuri finally let go of Yuuri, dropping back to the floor, and nodded. 

“Good,” Victor said, flicking his towel at Yuri’s ass. “I think we have plenty to look forward to, and lots to learn.”

Yuri licked his lips, glancing over at Yuuri, then back to Victor.

“I know what I want to try first.”


	9. All Clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to [neuroglam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroglam/pseuds/neuroglam), who put in a request for some enema play. If that's not your bag (har har!) you can skip to about 60% through the chapter for the fun clean after fucking. 
> 
> The pacing of this chapter is a bit off, mainly I think due to the fact I'm not as familiar with enema play, and potentially because I wrote most of this while feverish (oops). Combining an unfamiliar kink with their first all-together play session also probably wasn't the best choice I've ever made as an author, but dammit, I like fulfilling requests. I'm sorry it took so long, and thank you for being patient (especially you, neuroglam!)! :D 
> 
> ANYWAY. I am now on the mend! Porn on!

“It’s not exactly _comfortable_. The whole process is based on making your body cramp to move things through your system,” Victor warned, but Yuri was already naked, standing at the ready, and the look in his eye made it clear that no amount of talk would dissuade him. 

“If Katsudon can do it, so can I.”

Victor sighed, glancing at Otabek, but Otabek just shrugged. They both knew Yuri’s determination was a force of nature.

“Alright,” Victor gave in. “Yuuri, can you get the oils? Yuri, let’s see if you’re ready.” 

Victor sauntered to Yuri, gazing down at him, and was pleased to see no sign of flinch or hesitation as one arm came around Yuri’s shoulders and the other trailed down his side until he had a handful of ass. He groped at Yuri’s body, and Yuri leaned into him, curling to be pressed against his chest.

“You do love being perfect, don’t you?” Victor whispered, his fingers dipping into the valley between Yuri’s cheeks.

Yuri just shivered and leaned up to plant a desirous kiss on Victor’s throat. Otabek watched from the couch with a curious, analytical expression, following the details of interactions he could understand intellectually, if not exactly relate to physically. 

Yuuri returned to find Victor and Yuri twined together, Victor’s finger toying inside Yuri’s body, starting to tease and massage, and Yuri still and pliant and ready. When Victor saw Yuuri he pulled away slowly, tracing Yuri’s cheek, and then tugged him towards the bathroom. 

“We’ll be back,” he said to Otabek, who simply nodded and picked up his book. “You sure you don’t want to watch?”

“Yes.”

“If you change your mind…” Victor began. 

“I’ll knock,” Otabek repeated their previous agreement, raising his brow at Victor, who simply grinned and closed the door.

In the bathroom, Victor measured the oils out in various quantities while Yuuri prepared a bed of blankets and pillows on the floor. By the time Victor was pouring everything into the bag, the hose already clamped shut to prevent anything from escaping, Yuuri was satisfied with the soft nest he’d created. 

“What are those?” Yuri asked, watching as the oils swirled into the solution. Yuuri came up behind him, arms around his waist. 

“The oils make it feel… gentler. And they leave a soft scent. They can also coax your muscles to flex, which is what we want.”

Victor added the last of the oils and capped it with more solution, filling the bag to the three liter mark.

“All of that goes in me?” Yuri blanched. 

“Not all at once,” Victor soothed, sealing the bag after he’d mixed the contents and tested its temperature. “We’ll try to do two or three rounds, depending on what comes out. The first one we might not even be able to get a half liter in you.” He slid an S hook into the bag’s hoop and hung it on the shower curtain rod, the hose trailing down and curling on the floor. “But eventually, ideally, we’ll get you up to two liters. That helps ensure it goes all the way through your system.”

Yuuri guided Yuri down onto the blankets he’d laid out, a few pillows resting against the wall. 

“Best to start on your left side,” Victor said, lubing the hose nozzle. The nozzle was clear, tapered, and slightly thicker than a sharpie, designed to go deep as opposed to the balloon style nozzles that inflated to lock just beyond the muscle. 

“Your left side is where your colon starts. It’s shaped like the P in Cyrillic,” Yuuri said as Yuri curled up on his left side. He traced a line up the left side of Yuri’s abdomen, then across the top, then back down the right side.

Victor held the nozzle over the tub and opened the clamp, checking the flow of the solution to make sure the pressure was acceptable. 

“Eh, what’re you doing?” Yuri asked when Yuuri started playing with his hair. 

Victor looked up from his preparations, saw Yuuri’s actions and Yuuri’s blush at being called out for them. 

“He’s anxious because this always makes him nervous and vulnerable when I do it to him,” Victor explained. “It’s intimate in a way that’s different than most things, and he’s worried about you because you like to be strong, and we’re going to see you on the toilet and maybe in discomfort and Yuuri’s concerned it might be too much for you.” Victor smiled. “Think of Yuuri’s anxiety as one way he says ‘I love you’.”

That made both of them blush, but Yuri didn’t say anything else as Yuuri continued to gently stroke his hair and tuck it behind his ears.

“You’re sure about this, Yuri?” Victor asked one more time, finger at Yuri’s ass, pushing the muscle playfully as he brought the nozzle to it. 

Yuri glanced up at Yuuri, who managed a soft smile of encouragement. That was all Yuri needed. He nodded only to remember that Victor always preferred these sorts of things to be vocal. He swallowed and whispered: “Yes.”

Victor swirled the nozzle a few times around Yuri’s asshole, waiting to see the telltale clench and pucker that meant Yuri was hungry for it. The muscle pulsed a few times, then seemed to reach out for the nozzle. Victor’s lips twitched in an invisible smirk as he let the tip sink into that welcoming dark velvet. Yuri pushed, and Victor felt the sudden lack of resistance as the nozzle slid several centimeters all at once. 

“Look at you,” Victor praised. “You’ve come a long way.” He continued to feed the hose into Yuri long after the nozzle was buried in his body. 

“This isn’t something that’s going to be quick and easy,” Victor said. “I’m going to let a little bit of water in at a time, and then we wait for you to adjust to it. Then repeat. Most of what’s inside you will come out after the first half liter, so when it gets uncomfortable and you’re ready to go, just let me know. I’ll take the tube out, you can empty, and then we’ll try for more liquid if you’re still up for it.”

Yuri nodded, shivered, and Yuuri draped one of the blankets over his upper body and shoulders to warm him. Without thinking, Yuri gestured him closer, and as Yuuri complied Yuri lifted his head up and laid it in Yuuri’s lap. 

“Comfortable?” Yuuri asked. 

“Baka,” Yuri glared, but it was said like a pet name.

Yuri let out a noise as he suddenly felt heat inside of him; it was faint but made his toes curl and another shiver run through him. 

“OK?” Victor asked. Yuri gave a slow nod. 

“It’s…” he started to say, but there weren’t any words to describe the sensation. 

Victor just smiled at him, then twisted the clamp. 

“OK. That’s the first little bit,” he said, rubbing Yuri’s ass. 

“I can take more,” Yuri said.

“I know, but this’ll go easier if we don’t rush. I know you want to be perfect and clean, but I don’t want to hurt you by going too quickly.” 

Yuri growled softly but didn’t put up more of a fuss. Most of his attention was on that feeling, that spreading heat. It didn’t feel anything like a toy, or like Yuuri or Victor, or like the first few times after he’d played with them and spent the night in his bed exploring his body with his fingers. There was still pressure, but it was a snaking sort of thing, sensuous and subtle.

After a moment Victor twisted the clamp again, and this time Yuri shifted, jolting at a sudden sensation inside that wasn’t just heat. 

“Stop,” he said, and Victor twisted the clamp, cutting off the water flow. Yuri grimaced, his face contorted, and Victor’s hand came around to the front of his abdomen, gingerly feeling for a tensed muscle. 

“Hurting?” Victor asked. 

Yuri made a face. It wasn’t pain, not quite, just —

He groaned. 

“Do you need to go?”

Yuri didn’t know. It felt full and uncomfortable and warm and his hands were tense little fists. There was _pressure_ in a way he’d never experienced before and — 

“Yuri,” Victor prompted, gently, when Yuri continued to be unresponsive.

“Hold on!” Yuri cursed, turning his face so he could hide in Yuuri’s lap. 

Victor didn’t stop rubbing his abdomen, and while some of the discomfort faded, the desire to empty himself increased. 

“Feels like I have to go,” Yuri muttered, and found himself embarrassed. Victor had straight up told him this would happen, and Yuuri had been coddling him, and he should have realized it would make him feel this way but he hadn’t. 

“You probably do,” Victor said. “Can you hold it a minute or two longer? Don’t hold it if it’s painful, but if you’re still getting used to the feeling and can last, the longer you have it in the more effective it’ll be.”

“Okay,” Yuri mumbled into Yuuri’s thigh. Yuuri was whispering little nothings to Yuri, and he hadn’t even noticed. They weren’t in English, and he’d tuned it out as background noise, but now he listened actively to Yuuri’s tone, focusing on that instead of the increasing pressure behind him.

Yuri’s body occasionally twitched and shuddered, but between Yuuri’s attention and Victor’s constant rubbing, he was able to get through almost five minutes.

“I can’t hold it any more,” Yuri said simply, shifting and looking back at Victor. Victor nodded, gestured to the toilet, and Yuri found that moving and walking was its own new feeling.

“Careful,” Victor said. Yuri lowered himself onto the seat and Victor tilted him forward before slowly withdrawing the tube.

“Do you want us to leave?” Victor asked. 

“Yes.”

They did. Victor used the time to rinse the tube and nozzle while Yuuri waited by the door in case Yuri needed anything. 

Otabek, reading on the couch, shot Victor a curious look.

“He’s doing very well,” Victor said. “It’s going to take awhile still, but he’ll be ready for you. Are you alright?”

Otabek nodded, returned to his book.

When Yuri held the bathroom door open again, Yuuri settled down by the blankets. “Feel cleaner?” 

“It was dirty,” Yuri growled. 

“The first one always is. That’s the point. This one should last longer and probably won’t be as dirty,” Victor said as he joined them, replacing the bag on the curtain rod. “Go ahead and lay down again, Yuri.”

Yuri shuffled, like reconsidering, and neither Victor nor Yuuri questioned him or moved to continue until Yuri did. Ultimately he curled up again on his side, one leg slightly ahead of the other, and put his head in Yuuri’s lap when he made it available. 

“Touch my hair,” he growled to Yuuri, and Yuuri just smiled and started to pet him. 

“Do you like it like this?” Yuuri asked, sliding his fingers through the strands. “Or like this?” and he curved his fingers so his nails were scratching light circles on Yuri’s scalp. Yuri’s legs stretched out and his toes curled and that was answer enough. 

Victor just chuckled, “Ok, _Kotënok_ , we know you’re adorable.” He gave Yuri’s ass a quick spank. “Spread more.” 

Yuri yelped but complied, leg shifting farther forward, and Victor brought the nozzle down and eased the end inside. Yuri’s ass clenched around it, and his cock jumped, and Victor played with him for a moment — rolling Yuri’s exposed balls around in his palm in a slow massage while he slid the nozzle in and out. 

Yuri growled and glared back at Victor for the tease, which only seemed to please Victor. After a few more moments of gentle fucking he slid it all the way in. His hand found the clamp again.

“Ready, Yuri?”

“Mm,” he nodded. 

A moment later the heat began again, and Yuri pressed his face into Yuuri’s lap. 

“It’s so —” Yuri started again. “It’s like —”

It felt like a little serpent, slithering inside of him, curling in on itself to undulate against the soft inner walls of his body. It felt _alive_ , a sentient cock exploring his ass, warm and prehensile.

“Do you like it?” Victor asked.

Yuri’s brow furrowed, trying to identify what the feeling was before he could figure out if it was a pleasurable one. 

“I… I think so,” Yuri wavered. 

Victor must have twisted the clamp again, because the pressure eased, the serpent sleeping inside of Yuri. Victor let the fluid settle, studying Yuri’s face to gauge his mood and receptiveness, before his hand went back to the clamp.

The heat returned. Yuri could feel it inside of him, the most indescribable sensation, almost like a bellyful of soup, but lower, swirling in the valley of his hips. The serpent wound through him, curling farther than Victor had ever fucked him, approaching that tense, wonderful depth Otabek had introduced him to with the toy. 

They passed the point they’d hit last time and continued. Yuri gasped at the feel, and then the jostle of cramps.

“Nn!” Yuri winced, clenching, touching his abdomen, and Victor set a hand over his, pushing down carefully, moving in steady circles. There was a noise of bubbling fluid, a gurgle as the solution shifted. The snake rounded a corner, and then the tension faded out of Yuri again. 

“That’s good,” Victor said, “as long as it doesn’t last too long. That’s what we want to see. You okay now?”

Yuri nodded, curling up on the blankets, but the bathroom felt less and less real as his mind turned towards the aquatic beast inside him. Yuri drifted, eyes fluttering closed, just riding the waves of sensation - tension, release, tension, release - and always that ever increasing fullness. The cramps weren’t like any sort of discomfort he’d felt before - somewhere between pressure and pain and the promise of relief. Each time he felt his body tense he looked forward to the moment that Victor’s touch or the water’s own natural path would free him again. 

And he imagined how he would be for Otabek.

Completely clean. Purified like a virgin sacrifice. The serpent inside of him, licking his innermost stretches with its liquid tongue, was gorging on all of his impurities. Beauty wasn’t merely something exterior: Yuri would be perfect, inside and out, beautiful in every way. The ultimate gift for his master. 

Far away, Yuri heard the soft tones of Yuuri’s voice, a foggy tune that didn’t quite penetrate his entrancement, his dance with the serpent inside. 

“He’s starting to show…” Yuuri murmured. Victor glanced over, saw the way Yuri’s belly was just beginning to tighten outward, the water inside filling him like a balloon.

“What do you think, kitten?” Victor asked, touching the tip of Yuri’s nose and then brushing a finger down Yuri’s lips to wake him. Yuri blinked his eyes open slowly, soft and confused and disoriented. Victor continued gently brushing his lips until Yuri focused, blushed, and looked down at his belly. 

His eyes grew as he saw round skin where normally he was flat and firm. Yuri’s cheeks turned pink, but he couldn’t help reaching down and running his hand over it. 

As he rubbed it, another set of gurgles came from his stomach, the serpent growling inside of him, and his cheeks went from pink to red. 

“I look pregnant,” Yuri stuttered as the water kept flowing into him. 

Victor’s fingers danced effortlessly over the taut skin, leaving behind little patterns of warmth, like a snake charmer to the serpent inside of Yuri.

“We can stop here, if you don’t like it,” Victor said, closing the clamp. 

But Yuri bit his lip, paused. “… Will it get bigger?”

“Yes,” Victor said. 

“…can I have more?” 

“Of course.” 

Victor opened the clamp again, and the serpent seethed. Yuri shuddered, eyes closing again for a moment, then opened to stare at Victor.

“Do you like the feeling, kitten?” Victor asked. 

Yuri blushed, one arm resting over his stomach. He ducked his head into Yuuri’s lap instead of answering, and Yuuri just delicately stroked his hair. 

“It’s OK to like it,” Yuuri soothed him. “It’s strange and uncomfortable for me, but Victor holds me when I’m full and kisses my neck and rubs my stomach and it feels…” 

He opened his mouth, searching for the right words. 

“Perfect,” Yuri filled in. The serpent inside of him, the rolling heat, the sentient liquid going so far inside of him, _so far_ — it hurt, it cleaned, it was perfect.

Victor smiled. 

“Do you want me to hold you, kitten?” Victor asked. “When you’re full?”

“Please,” Yuri murmured.

“OK,” Victor smiled. “We still have another liter and a half to go. Can you roll on your back for me?” 

Yuri held the side of his stomach, his expression one of surprise and wonder as he shifted. The liquid inside of him jiggled, sloshed, exploring the new spaces exposed in this position. When Yuri was on his back he grimaced, reached back for Yuuri’s hand and squeezed it.

“It’s okay,” Yuuri assured, holding the hand tight. 

“Cramping?” Victor asked, and Yuri nodded, letting out a stressed breath. Victor clamped the tube and crawled over Yuri’s body, one hand at his abdomen, brushing those comforting strokes across the top of the bulge, soothing the serpent as it slithered farther through Yuri’s body. Victor kissed Yuri slowly, his lips thin but soft, warm and caring, distracting Yuri from the pain until he could make it go away. 

It took Yuri a moment before he was sinking into the kiss and returning it, mouth opening, tongue tentative at first as it met Victor’s. He ignored the sounds as the water settled in his belly and paid attention to the teasing aggression of Victor’s tongue sneaking little licks against his own, like tempting Yuri to come into his mouth. Yuri sighed, breath soft on Victor’s cheek, and followed Victor’s tongue back into his mouth, tasting vague, lingering hints of mint and sugar. Victor grinned, corners of his lips curving as he tickled the underside of Yuri’s tongue and then closed his lips around it to suckle. He nipped Yuri’s lips as he pulled back, growling beneath his breath, and Yuri groaned as he felt a hardness against his thigh, Victor letting Yuri know how much he enjoyed this. 

Victor flicked his thumb over Yuri’s wet bottom lip, flashing his charming smile, and returned his attention to the hose. 

“Mmm” Yuuri mumbled, and Yuri felt the hardness in Yuuri’s lap as well.

Both of them were enjoying him. Both of them were aroused by him. 

Yuri could only lick his lips.

“Better?” Victor asked, and when Yuri nodded he opened the clamp again. 

Yuri cradled his belly, moving the water around, and Victor touched him lazily, idly caressing the half moons of his ass, the muscle around the tube, the half-hard cock getting pushed to the side by Yuri’s growing abdomen. 

“Can you fuck me like this?” Yuri asked.

“Yes,” Victor said. “But it can get messy; it’s hard to hold the water in and get fucked at the same time, and a cock isn’t the best plug.” 

“I want to try. I need —”

“We didn’t negotiate fucking you with Otabek,” Victor said. He caressed Yuri’s asshole, tracing it around the tube penetrating him. “We’d have to ask your master.”

“Can you?” Yuri blushed. 

“Let’s get you cleaned this time,” Victor said. “And show him your beautiful body. And if you want to get fucked with a water belly we can plan that for next time. Promise.” 

He leaned over and pecked Yuri’s cheek, flashing a slow smile. Yuri blushed into Yuuri’s lap. 

“OK,” Victor said. “Onto your right side now.” 

Yuri was glad to be on his side again, felt safer, for some reason, when he could shift into a more fetal position. But as he settled the serpent rioted inside of him. The cramps rose up as he shifted and he choked at the pain, hugging his stomach tightly. 

“Victor!” Yuri begged, and Victor was there, pressing, guiding the water along its path. The cramps were spreading, Yuri’s entire system revolting against the serpent’s presence. The water was so intense, so warm, so _full_ and Yuri swore he felt like he was going to explode with it. He gasped, wincing, hurting Yuuri’s hand from how tightly he squeezed it. He clutched his stomach, and Victor kept rubbing, and finally the water gurgled and sloshed and started to spread out, no longer knotted inside of him. Yuri relaxed once again, breathing hard.

“There you go. Easy,” Victor said, helping Yuri settle down amongst the blankets again. “We’re almost done. You’re almost full, kitten.” 

Yuri looked dazed but nodded, falling back into Yuuri’s lap. Victor undid the clamp again, letting more water in, and Yuuri just shivered and closed his eyes. He didn’t speak, didn’t even move as another half liter filled him, bit by bit. Minutes passed as his body continued cramping and churning water, and every time Victor’s hand eased the discomfort away. 

“Just a little more, kitten,” and Victor continued with the water. Tension. Release. Cramp. Massage.

And Yuri was still.

Imagining.

‘Is he okay?’ Yuuri mouthed to Victor. 

Victor ran his hand up Yuri’s back, gently cupped Yuri’s cheek and let his palm smooth over Yuri’s neck, resting by his throat. Then he moved down to the now curved stretch of Yuri’s belly, ever so mindful of the pressure. He nodded. Yuri was fine. Just… lost to the sensation.

“You’re doing so well,” Yuuri whispered softly to their little kitten, though he doubted Yuri heard. His hand twitched, but otherwise he was unresponsive. Despite the changes in Yuri’s body he still looked so vulnerable - so young and delicate and it made Yuuri’s heart hurt, especially as he tensed with another cramp.

“That’s all of it,” Victor said as the last of the liquid emptied from the bag. He slid his palm over Yuri’s stomach, using broad circles that followed the path the water took inside him: up the left, across, down the right. He guided the serpent, helping it deep through Yuri’s body, cleansing all the right places. While one hand maintained that motion, the other slid over Yuri’s backside and curled around the hose. 

“I’m going to take the nozzle out now,” Victor said. “I need you to clamp down for me so nothing gets out, okay, kitten?” 

Yuri made a tiny noise, eyes still closed, but as Victor pulled the tube he saw the clench in Yuri’s muscles. When the nozzle came out only a small trickle of water escaped, though it made Yuri whimper. His hand reached between his legs, fingertips grazing over his asshole, lightly petting. “Empty…”

“I know, kitten,” Victor soothed. Yuuri handed him a small plug with a balloon at the base. “Don’t worry. I’ll fill you up again.” 

Again Yuri’s hand twitched, but that and a murmured “Mm…” were the only acknowledgement. 

Victor lubed the toy with one of the oils, then slid it into Yuri’s body until it locked behind the balloon. “There you go. Is that better?”

A soft affirmative. 

“I’m just going to expand it a bit,” Victor said. “Tell me if it hurts.” He squeezed the pump a few times, watching Yuri’s face, but Yuri just moaned faintly and was otherwise still.

“There you go, kitten,” Victor murmured. “All filled up. Now we just let the cramps do their work.”

As he’d promised, Victor came up behind Yuri. He adjusted the blankets and pillows, broadening the little nest for them, and curled his body around Yuri’s. Yuri sighed as Victor’s chest came flush with his back, though he was too spaced out to express it as anything more than a stronger-than-average breath. Victor kissed Yuri’s shoulder, his neck, his cheek, all the while just moving the warm water through Yuri’s body with his palm. 

“Do you feel it in you, kitten?” Victor whispered. “Deeper than I could ever go? Deeper than Otabek’s toys?” 

Another whimper.

“Do you feel the heat of it? Like another life inside of you? Stretching you?” 

“Nh….”

“What will Otabek think, to have you so clean? So perfect for him?”

Yuri shivered against Victor, tilting his head back over Victor’s shoulder to beg, but it just gave Victor more opportunity to kiss his throat. Yuri needed that affection, that distraction from the beast. The water inside of him thrashed, and his body fought back, pulsing against the serpent’s invasion. It was stronger now. The fight escalated with Yuri caught in the middle, unable to do anything but feel.

Yuri twitched, tightening, and then relaxed. His eyes were still closed, and on the occasion that they fluttered open were unfocused and far away. Victor still massaged Yuri’s swollen abdomen, chasing down the points of tension and kneading them until they resolved, enjoying the feel of the water inside. 

When the cramps finally made Yuri cry out, Victor sat up and hooked an arm under Yuri’s torso. “OK, kitten, time to clean you out.”

Yuri’s lashes fluttered, but he made no other motion. He was lost.

“I’m going to lift you up, and you need to try to stand for me, kitten,” Victor said. He hooked his other arm under Yuri’s knees and slowly lifted him up, carrying him to the mirror. 

“Look, kitten,” Victor purred, gently setting Yuri’s feet down on the cool floor. For a moment Yuri’s knees buckled, but Victor steadied him until he gathered himself, then kissed his cheek until his eyes drifted open. 

Victor had positioned Yuri so his profile would be clear in the mirror. The silhouette was so strange, clearly a man’s body but with a distended belly, something Yuri’d only seen before on pregnant women, and then only few. Victor’s hand was spread out over the curve of it, supportive and soothing. 

Yuri had just enough energy to run his hand over the bump, awestruck even through his daze, and then another cramp lurched through him. His weight fell against Victor again, knees collapsing, and Victor had just enough time to scoop him up. 

“It’s OK, kitten,” Victor murmured. “You’ve done so well. Your master’s going to be so proud.”

He moved carefully, setting Yuri down on the porcelain and then opening the release valve for the pump. Yuri groaned at the feel of it deflating, and then Victor was feeling beneath him, cautiously pulling the plug from Yuri’s body. He expected a torrent of water to follow, but Yuri had gone stiff again, rigid, unable to say goodbye to the beast that had tortured him.

Yuri held the water inside him, only a few stray drips escaping. He sat shivering on the toilet, still leaning against Victor, toes curled against the bathroom tiles. Victor brushed his fingers over Yuri’s stomach, letting Yuri rest a moment, then knelt by the toilet and brought his lips near Yuri’s ear.

“You can let go now, kitten,” Victor said. “Do you want us to leave?”

Yuri’s hand grabbed Victor’s wrist, and Victor stayed where he was.

Yuri tilted his head against Victor’s, looking drugged, and Victor gently slid a hand underneath Yuri, stroking between Yuri’s cheeks, finding the muscle and caressing it. 

“Let go, kitten,” Victor encouraged. “Your master’s waiting for you.” He dipped his finger into Yuri, feeling the water that had stabilized to his body temperature. He withdrew the digit, trying to trigger Yuri’s body to expel. “Let’s show him how clean you are. How ready you are.”

Yuri’s cheeks reddened, the only part of him responding to the situation. He turned and pressed his face into Victor’s shoulder at the same time that he finally opened up and started pushing the solution out of his system. 

“That’s it,” Victor praised him, flushing as the bowl started to fill. The whole time, Victor’s palm had never stopped moving over Yuri’s stomach, this time tracing backwards along the path, helping the water revert out of Yuri’s body. It came in waves, and the whole time Yuri clung to Victor, and Victor whispered soft praise to him, gentle encouragement.

Yuuri watched contently, if still somewhat concerned for Yuri’s mental state. He was spaced out _hard_. Still, Yuuri didn’t want to further overstimulate him, and he trusted Victor to handle this part of the process.

“Does it feel like you’re done, kitten?” Victor asked as the intervals between release lengthened. 

Victor felt the flutter of Yuri’s lashes on his neck, but didn’t get a verbal response. Victor glanced at Yuuri to see if he’d seen something more affirmative, but Yuuri just shook his head.

It was another few minutes before Victor felt confident that Yuri was empty and clean. When Yuri showed no intention of standing, Victor simply picked him up again, letting Yuri rest against his chest.

“Ready to see Otabek?” Victor asked, kissing Yuri’s hair, and Yuri’s face shifted into a smile, dazed eyes opening. 

“Otchka…” Yuri murmured.

Otabek closed his book when the bathroom door opened, Yuuri coming out first and holding it for Victor and Yuri. Yuri looked… drugged. He was boneless in Victor’s arms, liquid held together by skin and bones. Otabek started to stand but Victor shook his head. 

“He needs to be held. Can you hold him, or do you want me to?” Victor asked. 

“Give him to me,” Otabek said. Yuri was his. He would take care of him. 

“Here you go, kitten,” Victor whispered to Yuri as he lowered the little waif into Otabek’s arms. The difference was night and day. Otabek’s arms felt as steady as mountains, and Yuri melted into the valley between them. His head tilted against Otabek’s chest, hand nearby, touching, and he felt protected from everything in the world. Otabek was his lover, his keeper, his master, and there was no comfort or safety that could compare to Otabek’s arms. 

“What happened to him?” Otabek asked. 

“When an experience gets intense, this can happen,” Victor said, brushing his fingers through Yuri’s hair. “It’s not a bad thing. It just means he went into his head a bit.” 

Victor found one of Yuri’s hands, holding it loosely. “Do you want to show Otabek what we did, kitten?” 

The resulting squeeze was all the signal Victor needed. Yuuri came forward with one of their toy boxes, and Victor pulled out a medium-sized white dildo, ribbed along its length. 

“Can you position him for me?” Victor asked Otabek. Otabek felt a twitch of something - like surprised that Victor was asking him, or the slow realization that both Victor and Yuuri were treating him as the authority over Yuri. 

In this scene, Yuri belonged to him. 

He really _was_ master and keeper. 

Otabek shifted Yuri so that he was resting across Otabek’s legs instead of in his lap. He pulled both of Yuri’s legs up, folding him, so his ass was exposed.

Victor popped the toy into his mouth, sucking on it rather lewdly for a moment until it glistened with his saliva. His finger came between Yuri’s legs, and however dazed Yuri was, his ass was still hungry - perhaps moreso now that the emptiness after the water had set in. The muscle of his asshole puckered outward, begging as soon as it felt Victor’s fingertip. 

“Good, kitten,” Victor murmured. He put the end of the toy up against Yuri’s body, felt a slight resistance as he started to push it in. 

“Open up, kitten,” Victor encouraged. “Open up for me so I can show Otabek how clean you are.” 

Yuri whimpered. His hand tightened in Otabek’s shirt, and then he relaxed. 

The toy slid inside of him, making his toes point as every little ridge pulled on his sensitive tissue. Victor didn’t let Yuri enjoy the fullness. As soon as it was nearly buried Victor pulled it out again, starting a slow rhythm. 

Several thrusts and then Victor withdrew the toy. 

He spun it in front of Otabek, letting him see the length. “Pristine. No signs of anything.” 

Normally a toy with that many ridges would scrape inside and collect whatever was along the walls. But there was no discoloration. No smears. Nothing. Not even the darker, muskier scent that usually accompanied any sort of anal play. 

“Perfect little kitten,” Victor grinned. 

But Yuri had the beginnings of a pout on his face. 

“Empty…” he murmured.

Before Victor could respond, Otabek was shifting Yuri again. He pulled Yuri’s back to his chest, then grabbed one of Yuri’s thighs in either hand. Slowly, he pulled them up and apart, spreading Yuri into a vulnerable pose with his ass on display, hanging over the edge of Otabek’s knees. 

He watched Yuuri’s tongue snake out, wetting his lips at the sight, and saw the blush when Yuuri realized Otabek had caught him doing so. 

Otabek tilted his head. “You want him?”

“Yes,” Yuuri couldn’t lie. An offering like that? Yuri held open by his master? Yuri’s body so clean, so perfect, and so clearly begging for it? Yuuri was hard as steel. Then: “Please. Please, Otabek, let me fuck him.” 

Yuri’s body pulsed at those words, ached, dripped onto his abdomen. Otabek paused, pretended to consider, watching all the nuance of passion in Yuri’s flushed length, in Yuuri’s blush and the clench of his hands at his side… and even in the subtly approving expression on Victor’s face, the surprise that Otabek had taken charge so seamlessly. Was Victor aroused, too, by Otabek’s authority? 

Otabek realized that he could wrap them all around his finger for their lust.

But for now: Yuri. His lover needed attention.

“Come,” Otabek said to Yuuri, “Fuck him.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched, but the next moment he was flying out of his clothes, almost tripping over himself as he shook out of his pants. It was Victor who forced him to pause, Victor who grabbed his hips when he was naked, knelt in front of him, and swallowed Yuuri’s length with the same ease he’d wet the dildo. 

“ _Victor_ ,” Yuuri cursed, tangling a hand in his hair, allowing him a few moments of dripping suction before he pulled Victor off. Victor licked his lips, smirking, and smacked Yuuri’s ass as he knelt before the couch.

Otabek adjusted his hold, lowering Yuri a fraction until his body aligned with Yuuri’s. 

He’d never seen Yuri get taken before. He knew it had happened. He even imagined it a few times. But watching a part of Yuuri’s body disappear inside of Yuri’s was different. Otabek went tense for a moment, had to remind himself that he was fine, OK, safe. That none of this was happening to him. That he could stop it in an instant if he wanted to. 

A blip of motion to the side caught Otabek’s eye. Victor, mouthing ‘are you okay?’. 

Otabek exhaled. Rolled and relaxed his fingers where they gripped Yuri’s thighs. He nodded, invisible to all but Victor, and returned his attention to the pair.

“Katsu…” Yuri moaned, the steady fuck pulling him back to reality. 

Right. That was what mattered. Yuri enjoying himself. Yuri looking flush and drunk on what they were doing to him. Otabek could feel the force of Yuuri’s thrusts through Yuri’s body, feel the power in them. Yuuri grabbed Yuri’s thighs, hands above Otabek’s, and Otabek had to tighten his grip to keep Yuuri from pulling him away.

“I don’t think he can handle your stamina, Yuuri,” Victor murmured. “Not after all he’s been through.” 

Victor knelt behind Yuuri, let his nails dance down Yuuri’s back. “Should I finger you to help you get off?” 

He brought his hand around Yuuri’s shoulders, offering his middle and index finger to Yuuri’s lips. Never skipping a beat with his thrusts, Yuuri opened his mouth and sucked on the digits. Otabek watched the interplay of tongue and fingers, wondering if he could do that, and then watched the way Yuuri’s expression changed when Victor’s lubricated hand disappeared behind him. 

For a second Yuuri’s thrusts paused. He pushed back towards Victor, and Victor looked analytical, thoughtful, like he was searching for something. Then both of them grinned: Victor looking victorious and Yuuri looking hyper-sexed. Yuuri started to thrust again and Victor kept doing whatever it was he was doing inside him. 

“I know what you want, Victor,” Yuuri moaned as he fucked Yuri. 

“A chance to fuck him too?” Victor smirked. 

“No,” Yuuri rasped, his breathing coming faster, the dual stimulation of Yuri’s body and Victor’s fingers driving him crazy. “Are you too shy to ask Otabek?” 

Otabek had never seen Victor blush before. The pink color looked odd across his cheeks. 

“Want me to ask him for you?” Yuuri panted. “I’m almost there, Victor.” 

Yuuri’s focus turned to Otabek. “Can I come in him, Otabek? Can I fill up your toy?” Yuuri licked his lip, glanced back at Victor. “Victor wants to suck it out of him.” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuri broke his spell of speechless moans to whimper. “Otchka - Sir, please? Please?” 

“Please,” Yuuri echoed. 

And even Victor, blushing, glanced up at Otabek through his lashes, hoping on permission. All three of them hung on his consent, Yuuri still bucking, but with a pained expression now, holding back, fighting against the urge to orgasm, waiting. 

“Come in him,” Otabek commanded, and Yuuri grabbed Yuri, plunged deep, and finally did. The aftershocks were long: several short, staccato thrusts and Yuuri’s quiet grunts. Otabek tried to memorize the differences between how Yuuri looked and the way Yuri went taut, the way he winced his pleasure. 

After a moment of panting, Yuuri pulled out of Yuri, and Victor withdrew his hand, brushing his fingers off on Yuuri’s discarded shirt. 

“Ask… if you can taste him…” Yuuri encouraged Victor. “Look how hard he is. He still needs more.” 

Otabek glanced down. Yuri’s body was so pink, his cock dark with blood. His hips were still flexing, trying to find more stimulation as Otabek held him open. 

“Victor,” Otabek summoned. “Your boy got mine dirty. ….Clean him.” 

Yuuri curled up on the couch beside Otabek to watch and Yuri reached for him, one hand drifting until Yuuri took it, brought it to his lips, and kissed and nibbled the tips of Yuri’s fingers. 

“Such a good boy,” Yuuri purred.

Then Yuri gasped, because Victor’s face was between his legs, and Victor’s mouth was against his asshole. 

“It’s worth it, isn’t it?” Yuuri asked him. “All the cramps? Can you feel his tongue?”

Yuri squeezed Yuuri’s hand, and Otabek flexed suddenly to keep Yuri spread open as his instinct was to latch his legs around Victor’s shoulders. 

“Be good,” Otabek chastised Yuri. “Let him clean you.” 

Yuri groaned at Otabek’s authority, pressing back against Otabek’s chest. “Sir!” he apologized, and his legs widened, stretching himself to make up for the lapse. 

“Look at your body,” Yuuri whispered, trailing a hand from Yuri’s thigh up his leg. “Otabek has the best pet.”

Yuri was getting overwhelmed again. Otabek’s strong hold, Yuuri’s tantalizing words, and Victor— 

Oh, _fuck_ , Victor. 

Victor was sucking on the muscle of his asshole, which was thick and red and puffy from Yuuri’s pounding. He was pulling it into his mouth and laving his tongue over it, through it, and even nibbling on the sensitive, sensitive skin. Yuri was open enough from getting fucked that Victor could nip little sections of his asshole between his teeth - simultaneously so gentle and yet it felt vicious, dangerous, delicious. Then Victor would use his hands to spread Yuri even further. He’d lick all around the open hole and then spear through it, then _suck_ on that sweet clean tunnel. 

He really _was_ going to get Yuuri’s cum out of him. 

They all knew when it happened because Victor made this noise: this noise that was almost innocent in how elated it sounded. It was a happy gasp, a delight, and Victor pulled back slightly, eyes glazed, to show the clear strand connecting his tongue to Yuri’s ass. 

He licked the cum, flicking it into his mouth with his tongue, and then dove back between Yuri’s legs. Otabek wasn’t even surprised; he had so few experiences to compare this to - nothing to inform him that Victor’s kink was anything out of the ordinary. Yuri was completely out of it at that point. And Yuuri… Yuuri always enjoyed seeing this side of his lover. He rarely ever let his true kinks show when they were with others. He was normally so concerned with ensuring everyone else was contented, he never opened up this intimately. 

It spoke volumes about his trust in Otabek and Yuri. 

When Victor finally pulled back, licking his lips, he found Otabek again. “He’s clean. Can I fuck him and make him come? He needs to come.” 

And this time Otabek didn’t even hesitate. He could feel Yuri’s desperation in every fiber of his taut muscles. 

“You do too,” Otabek said. Victor, again, blushed. Otabek started manipulating Yuri’s body, flipping him over so he was kneeling on the couch, facing Otabek. Otabek reached back, grabbed a cheek of Yuri’s ass and squeezed it in offering. He nodded his permission, pulling Yuri open. “Fuck my boy.” 

Yuri cried out at those words, wrapping both arms around Otabek’s neck and burying his face in them. His lips were near Otabek’s ear, so Otabek could hear his desperate panting and constant moans as Victor stood behind him, shuffled from his clothes, and thrust. He felt Victor’s force against his shoulder blades where Yuri was bracing his weight. 

Otabek had just enough awareness to notice Yuuri grabbing a tissue and holding it under Yuri, but Otabek stopped him, caught his wrist and moved it away. 

Instead, Otabek reached under his boy, grasped the tip of his cock, and made a cup of his hand just in time to feel Yuri go rigid and warm liquid pool in his palm.

It was a cascading effect, Yuri’s shuddering orgasm and the tight pulses of his body making Victor groan, grab his hips, and bury deep. Otabek caught everything that spilled from Yuri’s body (and spilled, and spilled…). When it was over, they both collapsed: Yuri curling in Otabek’s lap, melted, and Victor dropping down to his knees to pant. 

On a whim, Otabek held out his hand, offering Yuri’s cum, and Victor, flushed, dazed, gently lapped it from Otabek’s palm and fingers. 

Otabek didn’t realize Yuuri had disappeared until he returned with glasses of juice, offering one to each of them (though he took a few sips from Victor’s first). 

“Are you OK, Yuri?” Yuuri asked, sitting next to Otabek on the couch. He brushed Yuri’s hair back, gazing into those dream-glazed green eyes. Yuri gave a dazed little smile, leaned out to kiss Yuuri tenderly, fondly, and then nuzzled back under Otabek’s chin. Otabek held Yuri’s juice for him, hand rubbing his shoulders, and as he felt Yuri start to shiver he grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and tucked it around the slim form. 

“Are _you_ OK, Otabek?” Yuuri asked. “That was a lot.”

Otabek nodded in agreement, but when he looked down at Yuri his smile was one of content adoration. He laid his cheek against Yuri’s forehead, and let that be answer enough. 

Finally Yuuri curled up on the floor beside Victor, hugging him tightly.

“You, love?” Yuuri purred. “Are you OK?”

“More than wonderful,” Victor sighed. 

“That was really sexy,” Yuuri smiled, brushing his nose back and forth against Victor’s. 

“Aren’t I always sexy?” and everyone else just snorted.


	10. The Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot this last time but HOLY CROW we crossed 600 kudos?!?!?!? That's like, a literal and verifiable metric fuck ton, y'all. 
> 
> Jesus. I love you. 
> 
> Anyway. This might be my favorite chapter (besides the first one, which was originally supposed to be just a stand alone one-off [HA HA HA HA HA hahahsobbing]), so I really hope you enjoy it! :D
> 
> **EDIT:** And PS I am totally editing this to add 15 more words so that we cross the g-dm 50k word mark too. 
> 
> TAKE THAT NANOWRIMO!!!! BEHOLD MY SMUT!!!!! 
> 
> ((NEVER LET ME POST UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF COLD MEDS AGAIN))

Blankets stretched out between the TV and the couch, creating a thick play area currently occupied by two very naked Yuris.

“What’s the absolute stop word?” Victor asked from the couch. 

“Red light,” Yuri said. 

“And the pause word?” 

“Yellow light,” Yuuri responded. 

“Good. Now. You can’t come during the movie. If you do, Otabek and I will devise some sort of truly terrible punishment,” Victor said, and Otabek raised his eyebrow because even _he_ could tell that phrasing it like that was hardly a disincentive. 

Victor just grinned. 

“Now, you have five minutes to loosen each other up. The looser you can get each other, the easier it’ll be to get inside during the battle,” Victor said. “Are you both lubricated?” 

Both Yuris held up their glistening fingers. 

“Approach your opponents,” Victor said, having far too much fun with the theatrics of it all. The Yuris moved forward on their knees until they were face to face, cock to cock. “Oops... Almost forgot.” Victor went and slid Yuuri’s glasses off, setting them on the side table. “There we are. Now, on your marks —“

“Go,” Otabek said, reaching over and tapping the timer on Victor’s phone. Victor pouted at him, but it was too late. The Yuris were already locked together, grappling each other, hands reaching around and fingers diving into holes. They started to kiss, sucking face as they speared their digits into each other, occasionally crying out or chastising one another with nips and groans. 

Yuuri was using a spiraling technique, twisting his three fingers as they punched in and out of Yuri’s body. 

Yuri had managed to get four fingers in, two from each hand, but only up to the first knuckle. Still, he was using the grip to spread Yuuri open, and Victor had to admit the glimpse of deep red inside Yuuri was utterly tantalizing. Yuuri’s free hand had locked around Yuri’s waist, holding them together, and Yuuri was not-so-subtly grinding against Yuri as they worked each other. 

In the background, the movie started to play. 

No one was going to pay attention to the movie, but, as Victor had said “It makes the battle more interesting.” Victor and Otabek would pretend to watch and Yuri and Yuuri would play out their battle on the blankets.

“One minute remaining,” Victor said.

“Stop hitting my spot! That’s not fair!” Yuri whined against Yuuri’s lips. 

“Sorry,” Yuuri moaned into his mouth. 

They each had a few more desperate thrusts of their fingers and then Victor called out “Time!” and the two separated, both already panting. 

Their cocks were hard and leaking, and Victor genuinely had no idea if they could make it the full hour. They’d chosen the shortest movie they could find, but based on the rosy cheeks and thumping cocks it was anyone’s game. 

“OK,” Victor said. “Time for the main event. Now: you must stay on your knees. Out of bounds is a one minute free fuck. Don’t hurt each other. Grappling only. Remember: if you aren’t in a good position to get fucked when you’re pinned, you can tap out to signal submission and then rearrange.” Both Yuris nodded. “Ready…. Set…..” He glanced at Otabek, who shook his head at Victor’s drama but didn’t interrupt this time. “Go!”

Yuri leapt first, quicker then lightning, tackling Yuuri down onto the blankets. 

“I’m going to fuck the cum out of you, Katsu,” Yuri smirked, but Yuuri wasn’t as easy as he’d thought to pin down. Yuuri rolled underneath him, easily getting away, and scooted back on his hands and knees with a challenging grin. 

“Are you?” Yuuri asked. 

Yuri launched again, and this time as Yuuri rolled out from under him Yuuri hooked him around the waist, slamming Yuri into the blankets beneath him. 

“Are you going to make this difficult or just give in and let me fuck you?” Yuuri asked as Yuri struggled under him. 

“NEVER!” Yuri growled, bucking underneath Yuuri hard enough to dislodge them. The two backed apart, circling on hands and knees. Yuuri reached out, trying a few teasing swipes at Yuri, but Yuri grabbed Yuuri’s wrist and pulled him off balance, leaping onto him again. 

The first several minutes passed that way, both able to buck the other off whenever they got close, but as they approached the ten minute mark Yuri was already looking exhausted, and Yuuri thought he could finally get him pinned. 

As Yuuri was holding Yuri down, however, the little tiger suddenly came alive beneath him. Yuri moved so quickly Yuuri wasn’t even sure how he wound up with his face mashed into the blankets, but Yuri was on top of him, shoving down hard on his back, and he felt Yuri’s cock against his inner thighs, poking at his balls, and then: 

“AI!” Yuuri yelped in pain. “Yellow light! Pause! Lube!” 

Yuri leapt off of him like he was burning, eyes wide, but Victor was there in a flash with one of their squirt bottles. He slicked some into palm, then started rubbing it around Yuuri’s hole, much to Yuuri’s relief. 

“Must have rubbed off; when you’re feeling dry come to us and we’ll get you wet again,” Victor said before giving Yuuri’s ass a fond rub and retreating to the couch. 

“OK, Yuri, you won; come on,” Yuuri said, hunching down again and wagging his ass in Yuri’s direction.

He glanced back when nothing happened and found Yuri kneeling, blushing, soft. 

“Yuri…” Yuuri frowned, coming up to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Yuri mumbled. 

Yuuri smiled, kissing Yuri’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth. His hand slipped between Yuri’s legs, finding his sticky cock and starting to stroke it back to life. “It’s not the first time I’ve been so excited with someone that something goes awry.” He glanced at Victor over Yuri’s shoulder, but Victor looked pointedly innocent. 

“Come on, you deserve it,” Yuuri said, as he felt Yuri start to harden up again. “Don’t you want to fuck me, tiger?”

Yuri growled, pushing Yuuri away, and Yuuri grinned and turned his ass to Yuri. “Come on, tiger.” 

Yuuri groaned appreciatively as he felt Yuri’s arms around his waist. He hunkered down, opening himself up, and Yuri slid easily into his ass. Both Yuris were quite vocal, warmed up by their wrestling or otherwise just enjoying the fiction of their battle. 

“Like that?” Yuri smirked, nipping at Yuuri’s back, and Yuuri shivered, arching to take Yuri deeper. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri purred, “But I’m still going to beat you. I’m still going to make you come before the hour’s up.” 

As he’d hoped, this drove Yuri’s thrusts to a faster pace, but before he could get too excited Yuri realized what Yuuri had done. 

“You’re trying to make me crazy!” Yuri said, popping off of him. 

Yuuri turned around, blinking his innocence. “Me?” And he launched at Yuri. “Why would I ever do that?” 

Yuri was reeling from his arousal, his defenses not as quick. 

“Because I want to see Victor and Otabek punish you?” Yuuri asked. He had his whole body weight over Yuri, pushing him down into the blankets. Yuri squirmed, twisted, but Yuuri was _strong_. He grunted, trying to roll free, but wound up in deadlock. 

He felt Yuuri’s cock against his back, not quite able to get inside of him. 

He tapped Yuuri’s arm twice.

Yuuri let him up, and Yuri, with a glare, went to the middle of the blankets. He rolled onto his back, tucked his legs up. “Make it quick, Katsudon.” 

“Or I might take my time,” Yuuri said, going to Victor for lube. 

Once he was glistening he settled over Yuri and sank into the boy, setting a tortuously slow pace. 

“Nnmph,” Yuri groaned, but his legs came up to wrap around Yuuri’s waist and hold him close, and one of his hands cupped Yuuri’s shoulder blade. “Katsu…” 

“I’ll make you feel so good you won’t care that you lost,” Yuuri whispered in Yuri’s ear, slowly sinking in, then pulling out. He was teasing that spot inside of Yuri, not quite hitting it, just barely grazing the edge, and for some reason that was even worse, even more tantalizing than straight up pounding against those nerves. Yuri whimpered, clutching to Yuuri, back arching like a cat, begging for more. 

“Yuri.” Otabek said. “Don’t give in so easily.” 

Yuri blushed and remembered he was supposed to be fighting. He wiggled on Yuuri’s cock, then used the embrace he’d enacted around Yuuri to flip them. He pulled his ass off of Yuuri’s cock and then rocked backwards, surprised when he felt his cock at Yuuri’s ass, more surprised when it actually started to sink in. 

“Oh!” Yuuri also gasped in alarm, on his back underneath Yuri. Yuri’s legs had unlatched from Yuuri’s hips and dipped between Yuuri’s legs instead, pinning them open as Yuri thrust. 

But that only lasted a few moments before Yuuri managed to squirm free, and the two were circling each other again on the blankets. 

Pinning happened more frequently as they tired, and both Yuris wound up inside the other with similar frequency. The only issue was that Yuri adored the feeling of getting fucked by Yuuri. Yuuri had this unique ability to drive him wild. And yet, when Yuri was fucking Yuuri…

“Why don’t you like this more?” Yuri scowled, hugging Yuuri’s hips. 

“It’s pleasant…” Yuuri said. “But you don’t aim very well.” 

Yuri blushed. 

“You two never taught me to! How am I supposed to know!?” But before he could get angry-embarrassed Victor was kneeling beside him. 

“It’s OK, tiger,” Victor smiled. “Here… you’re aiming parallel to his spine right now, see? That feels the best for us when we fuck him, but if you want it to feel the best for him…” He grabbed Yuri by the hips, tilting them downward, and suddenly Yuuri let out a long, deep groan. 

“Do you feel the difference?” Victor asked. 

Yuri nodded quickly. Not only did it mean he could last longer, it meant it would make Yuuri even more aroused. 

“Always imagine that Yuuri’s cock has a thick root that goes inside as far as it sticks out. You want to aim for the base of that root,” Victor said. “Can you feel the little hardness there? The nerves?” 

Yuri closed his eyes, braced on Yuuri’s hips, and paid attention to all the sensations coming through his cock. He felt a little zing of pleasure when the squishy head came up against a firmer stretch of Yuuri’s innards. 

“I feel it,” Yuri said, and he felt even more as Yuuri moaned again.

“Dammit, Victor…” Yuuri groaned. “I was going to win…” 

“If it’s not fair, it’s not a win,” Victor teased, kissing Yuuri’s back and then returning to the couch. 

“That’s what I’d been missing all this time, Katsudon?” Yuri smirked, aiming for it now, colliding with it steadily. “You should have told me.” 

“So you could win?” Yuuri growled.

Yuri pulled out, too excited by everything to continue, and nuzzled up to Yuuri’s cheek. “So I could make you feel good.”

He was expecting Yuuri to pounce back on him, but he wasn’t expecting quite the ferocity. This time it wasn’t dicks or holes; they were just… kissing. Very, very aggressively. They were all but knotted together, a mess of limbs and hands groping everywhere but mainly it looked like they were trying to eat each other whole. 

Otabek, who actually _had_ managed to watch a lot of the movie, paused and turned to Victor. 

“What’s happening?” Otabek asked. 

“They like each other,” Victor said. “ _A lot_. Sometimes they realize it at odd moments.” 

He shrugged, and Otabek cocked his head.

“Should I be jealous?” 

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Me neither,” Victor grinned. “I think it’s hot. … And adorable.”

“…. They’re like cubs.” 

Victor’s eyes lit up, “Yes! Our sexy little cubs.” 

The Yuris heard none of this conversation, too consumed in their own world. Too consumed with consuming each other. Every time they would pause to catch their breath they’d wind up staring into each other’s eyes, and that just led to more feverish kissing and affectionate wrestling. 

“Are you really going to punish them?” Otabek asked. 

“Of course. That’s the fun part,” Victor winked. He waved his hand to the tangle of nudity in front of them. “This is really all just an elaborate justification for some spanking or tickling or however we decide to punish them.”

“We?” Otabek raised his brow. 

“Well,” Victor said. “If you’re playing master, you’d get first dibs on doling out Yuri’s punishment if he loses.”

Otabek looked thoughtful, gazing back to where Yuri and Yuuri were tussled together, savagely sucking face. 

“If I laid Yuri over your lap, do you think you’d be comfortable hitting his ass?” Victor asked. 

“….Yes,” Otabek said. “…. Would he like that?”

“From you?” Victor looked incredulous. “I almost guarantee it.” 

Otabek remembered the first time he’d made Yuri fuck himself on the toy - that simultaneous expression of pain and satisfaction. That’s right. Pleasure wasn’t clearcut for Yuri. He was hardwired differently than many people. 

They turned their attention back as some of the fighting ceased. Yuri was on his side, groaning, and Yuuri was laying over him, fucking him slowly while they continued making out. Yuuri had a hand in Yuri’s hair, and vise versa, holding each other close. 

“Katsu,” Yuri panted between kisses. “Feels so good. Fuck, Yuuri… Fuck, fuck me, please.”

“I’m fucking you,” Yuuri purred into the kisses, sucking Yuri’s lip. “I’m fucking you.” Yuuri groaned, bowing his head to Yuri’s neck for a moment. “Fuck, you feel incredible.”

They kept echoing each other, lost. 

“Yuuri…” Yuri whined softly. “I’m going to come.”

“I know,” Yuuri murmured. “It’s OK. I’ll make sure it hurts so good when they punish you. Just come, Yuri, come on tiger. Let me make you feel good.” 

“Yuuri…” Yuri whined. His eyes rolled up and he pushed down onto Yuuri’s cock. “Harder… please. Really hard? I want to come while you’re rough.”

“For you,” Yuuri said, kissing him once more, slow, and then grabbing onto Yuri’s shoulder so he had the leverage to slam into him. 

Yuri came on the first sledgehammer thrust, but Yuuri kept pounding into him all through his orgasm, making sure he had plenty of stimulus to carry him across the waves. He didn’t slow down until Yuri was a whimpering mess, cupping his cock to keep from dirtying the blankets. 

“Yuuri wins,” Victor said, coming forward with tissues. He gave Yuuri a long, hard look as he pulled a soft cock out of Yuri. 

“Yuuri…. Did you come too?” Victor asked. He eyed Yuuri’s cock, grabbing it and squeezing it like toothpaste. A final blob of cum came out the tip, which made Yuuri blush and Victor smirk. “You did. And tried to hide it, too?!” 

Victor tsked. 

“He got so tight when he came,” Yuuri panted. “It was….” He shook his head. “I couldn’t resist.”

They were all a bit surprised to see Otabek come down onto the blankets and kneel next to Yuri, swiping his hair to the side to see his face. 

“Are you OK, Yuri?” Otabek asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Yuri said, scooting towards Otabek, half swimming into his lap. “I’m sorry I lost.” He folded himself up against Otabek’s chest and Otabek hugged him once before letting go and standing up. 

“Take a moment to recover,” Otabek said. “We’ll decide what to do to you.” 

“Yes, sir,” Yuri said, kneeling, pinkish everywhere. Otabek and Victor rose from the blankets once they were sure their cubs were OK. They disappeared into the practice room and Yuuri scooted to Yuri, welcoming him into his arms. They were quiet for a minute, both blissfully post-coital.

“I didn’t think it would keep getting better,” Yuri murmured, snuggling with Yuuri. 

“We’re learning each other’s bodies,” Yuuri said. “Hopefully we keep learning new things, and we get better at reading one another…” 

“Is it like magic, you and Victor?” Yuri asked. 

“We’ve had a long time to get used to each other,” Yuuri said with a wistful grin. “That’s it’s own magic, I guess, yes.”

“I want to be like that with Otchka,” Yuri smiled. 

“He’s already learning so quickly,” Yuuri said. “Are you happy with it?”

Yuri nodded lighting fast, “I never thought — I mean, I imagined at first, but then I realized I was an idiot, and after that I never thought it would be like this. To still get to play with you and Victor? To have him just…. Accept this?” He gestured to his nakedness, to Yuuri’s. “I’m so _lucky_.”

“We all are,” Yuuri nodded in agreement, only to find Yuri growling again.

“Eh, baka, you turned me soft!” Yuri said, elbowing Yuuri, but Yuuri just laughed and hugged him. 

“I love you,” Yuuri said, without thinking, and then his eyes turned saucer-wide when he realized what he’d just said. 

He looked down, worried what he’d see on Yuri’s face, but Yuri just had this cocky smirk and a spark of fondness in his eyes. 

“I know,” Yuri teased, the tip of his nose touching Yuuri’s cheek. “I feel it too.” 

“We’ve decided,” Victor announced as the door opened. He and Otabek walked out, coming around to the edge of the blanket. Victor held a flogger in one hand, a hairbrush in the other, and Otabek had …?

“Is that a ribbon from Rhythmics?” Yuuri blinked. 

“Yes,” Victor beamed. “Though slightly modified. I got it from one of the ladies at the last Olympics. Would you believe she just straight up gave it to me?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “Victor Nikiforov.” 

Victor winked, then turned serious. “Ahem. Punishment.” 

“Yuri. You get two rounds of punishment,” Otabek said. 

“Yuuri, you get one.” Victor said. “Even if you won, the rule was still no coming, and you broke that.”

Yuuri knew he ought to at least pretend to pout, but he was too excited.

“Yuuri,” Otabek said. He’d been practicing the difference between the two pronunciations, but Yuuri was still surprised to hear Otabek call him out. He looked up at Otabek, eyes wide.

“You pick Yuri’s punishments,” Otabek said. 

Yuuri licked his lips, glancing over at Yuri, who was gazing at the different tools with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He wondered if Yuri understood what the different toys were supposed to be yet.

“Is there anything you definitely don’t want, Yuri?” Yuuri asked, brushing his hair, down his back to his ass. 

Yuri shook his head faintly.

“Mmm,” Yuri considered, surveying the options. “First I want him to get a bare hand,” Yuuri said, gesturing to Otabek’s empty one. “Then the flogger.” 

Victor gave a brief swish of his wrist, letting the long, soft suede tails trail behind the handle. “Excellent choices. For you, Yuuri, I want to use the crop.” 

‘Crop’ Yuuri mouthed, making quotes of his hands as he eyed the ribbon. Victor’s modification had been to bundle the ribbon at the tip, so it was closer to a more traditional crop. In theory the ribbons would be the main point of titillation, but Victor _did_ love his surprises.

“I know it’s your least favorite, but I think it’ll be good training for you, and show Yuri what he can work up to,” Victor said. Yuuri wiggled, debating. He really, really didn’t like the crop. 

“Just a few strokes?” Yuuri asked. 

“Of course, love,” Victor smiled.

“OK,” Yuuri agreed. 

“Now, this’ll be a first time for both of you, so we’re going to go slow,” Victor said, gesturing for Otabek to take up his seat on the couch. Otabek handed off the ribbon and sat, patting his lap for Yuri. Yuri swam up, but when he sat Otabek had to readjust him, pulling his legs to the side and guiding Yuri until he was resting over Otabek’s lap. 

That position alone made Yuri’s cheeks burn and Yuuri’s cock twitch. 

Otabek looked down at the naked boy across his lap, exhaling slowly. He brushed his fingers through Yuri’s hair, ran his palm back and forth over Yuri’s shoulder blades. 

He was OK. 

Victor and Yuuri were quiet, letting the pair share the moment. Otabek’s hand traveled down Yuri’s back, until it smoothed over the curve of his ass. They could see the way that Yuri trembled. This was the first time Otabek had ever intentionally touched him there. 

“Otchka,” Yuri whispered, looking over his shoulder, “You don’t have to do this—”

Otabek’s other hand came to the back of Yuri’s head, directing him face down again.

“I know.”

And his hand came down across Yuri’s ass, quick and smarting and it made Yuri cry out. 

“Say your count, Yuri,” Victor murmured in encouragement. “Let’s start you with ten.” 

“One,” Yuri said, settling back over Otabek’s lap. 

“Too much?” Otabek asked him, and Yuri shook his head quickly. 

“No, si— AH!” Otabek’s hand came down again and Yuri writhed. “Two!” 

“You can rub the skin between hits to sooth him,” Victor said. “It helps dissipate some of the heat, and usually means he can last longer.”

Otabek nodded, leaving his hand there, pinching some of the muscle between his thumb and forefingers. Yuuri had a bit of padding on his ass, a delectable bit of fat no matter how hard he minded his diet. Yuri was muscle to the core. Yuuri scooted to the side of the couch, petting Yuri’s hair and holding his gaze. 

“Is the hurt good?” Yuuri asked. “Coming from your master?” 

Yuri’s head bobbed until he cried out at the next smack, managing a quick “Three!” and almost immediately after that: “Four!” 

Otabek paused, rubbing first one cheek of Yuri’s ass, then the other. He’d been switching strikes between either cheek, but during the intermediate Victor gestured that he could move slightly lower, too, to get more of the muscle that angled outward from Yuri’s thighs. 

The next smack was that and more, aimed across both cheeks, and Yuri’s cry faded into a long groan. He was hard, and Otabek’s leg was underneath him, and he wanted nothing more than to grind against his lover and rub pleasure into his body to even out the pain. But he didn’t dare. 

So he whimpered “Five, sir,” and lifted his hips before settling them down again. 

“Hard again already?” Otabek asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Yuri blushed. 

Another strike. 

“Good.”

The deep satisfaction with which Otabek said it made Yuri shiver. He reached for Yuuri’s hand, laced fingers with him, and gasped at the next strike. “Six and seven, sir!” 

“Harder for the final three?” Otabek asked. “Can you handle it?” 

Yuri’s ass was on fire; he was certain it was raw, but he never wanted Otabek to stop touching him. 

“Yes sir,” Yuri said. 

Victor was on the opposite side from Yuri, paying attention to the color of Yuri’s ass and the rate the marks were appearing and the tension in Yuri’s body. Yuri had a tendency to overestimate his abilities, and Victor wanted him to remember this session fondly. 

‘Not too hard,’ Victor mouthed to Otabek, and Otabek struck Yuri again. 

“Eight!” Yuri said, squirming, wincing. “Sir.”

“Almost finished,” Yuuri said to him, kissing his cheek. “Almost there.”

Otabek’s hand was burning hot against Yuri’s skin as he massaged the flush skin, pinkish-red from the strikes. 

Then his hand came down again, once on either side, in quick succession. 

“Nine and ten, sir!” Yuri gasped.

Otabek made a noise like a rumble, something deep and approving. Without Victor’s prodding, he pulled Yuri into a hug, one hand staying on his ass to brush the heat away. Yuri coiled against Otabek’s chest, head tucking into its familiar place, nestled under Otabek’s chin. 

“I’m OK,” Yuri said, just as Otabek was opening his mouth to ask. “It felt good. It hurt. I don’t think I want any more today, but…”

“But you are still hard as a rock,” Otabek pointed out, and Yuri flushed and pulled away from Otabek, so his erection wouldn’t be prodding into Otabek’s belly. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuri murmured. “You don’t normally touch me like that and I —”

He stopped, breath caught in his throat, as Otabek grabbed his cock in one hand, staring at him as he did it. 

“O— Otchka—” Yuri gasped. 

Otabek exhaled, drawing his thumb along the skin, feeling the give and flex of it, the way it almost felt like a velvet sheath over the steely tissue underneath. Yuri was staring at him, overwhelmed.

“Good?” Otabek asked, and Yuri could only nod in shock. 

“Victor. Show me.” Otabek said, as he continued exploring Yuri’s cock. He wanted to do this well, and he was painfully aware of his own lack of experience. 

In an instant, Victor was on the couch beside him, pulling Yuuri into his lap. 

“It’s easiest like this,” Victor said, Yuuri’s back to his chest, curling his hand around Yuuri to cup his cock almost as if it was his own. “Can I put some lube on him?” 

Otabek pulled Yuri down, manipulating his little doll into the proper place and then grabbing Yuri’s cock again. He held it out for Victor to drizzle with lubricant. It was slick, wet stuff, strange feeling between his fingers, but it made it so easy for him to gloss his hand along Yuri’s cock. He watched Victor’s hand as it wrapped around an equally glossy Yuuri and mimicked the motions: pulling up the foreskin and playing with it, circling his thumb around the squishy tip, letting his fingers roll across the underside. 

“Otchka,” Yuri whimpered, biting the side of his hand. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe Otabek — _Otabek_ — 

“He’s very close,” Victor warned. “Do you want to make him come?” 

“Yes.”

“Long quick strokes,” Victor said, showing off on Yuuri (though he reached under and added a finger to Yuuri’s ass to see if he couldn’t get Yuuri a bit closer to coming himself). 

Otabek mirrored them, felt Yuri’s hips buck into his grip. 

_Like he’s fucking me_.

Otabek froze. 

His hand leapt away like he’d been burned and he stood up, only slow enough to make sure Yuri slid off to the side instead of tumbling to the floor. 

“Otchka!” Yuri called out, but Otabek was already gone, the bathroom door closing a little too hard behind him. 

The three were left shocked. 

Victor moved first, setting Yuuri aside and standing. 

He went to the bathroom door, Yuri on his heels. He paused for a moment there, listening, but there was only the sound of the sink and scrubbing. 

“Otabek,” Victor said, voice calm and pleasant. “…take all the time you need, OK? It’s always a bit alarming when we come up against our limits. We’ve all been there. If there’s anything we can get you, let us know. I’ll take care of the cubs.”

Victor wrapped his arm around Yuri’s shoulders, pulling him back when he reached for the handle.

“Let him be,” Victor murmured, guiding Yuri back to the couch. 

Yuri pressed his face into his hands, bowed over, and Yuuri curled up around him, rubbing his back. 

“Hey… it’s not your fault,” Yuuri murmured. 

“I thrust,” Yuri whimpered. “It felt so good, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t even realize. I told him I’d never touch him sexually - especially not without asking - and I …” 

His voice cracked. 

“Hey,” Victor said, sitting on Yuri’s other side. “Listen. This is something that happens when you play as hard as we play, Yuri. The stuff we’ve been doing? It’s intense. It’s strong. Everyone is constantly figuring out their limits, and sometimes, no matter how careful everyone is, no matter how much we all trust each other, we’re going to hit those limits. We’re going to accidentally cross them.”

He rubbed Yuri’s back, then reached for Yuuri’s hand. He slowly rolled it over, revealing a small scar on Yuuri’s wrist. 

“See this? One time I tied Yuri up. I checked my knots. I looked over the rope. I went to lift him and one of the supports slipped. All of his weight landed on his wrist, and the rope tore through his skin.” 

Yuuri shivered at the memory, glancing over at Victor as he brushed the scar. 

“I was so upset,” Victor said. “Because I was in charge - I was completely responsible for him - and I let this happen.”

“He didn’t want to play with me after that,” Yuuri mumbled. “And that made _me_ upset. I thought it was _my_ fault.”

“We weren’t very good at communicating back then,” Victor mused. “But the point is that these things happen, and if you blame yourself or close up… all it means is that you don’t have a chance to keep learning and connecting. There’s always risk when you open up and share your vulnerabilities with others. Sometime you have to pay those risks off. But to me, the things we’ve all been able to share together… that’s worth it.”

Yuri frowned. “What if he never wants to do this again?”

“Otabek doesn’t seem like that kind of person,” Victor said. 

“I’m not,” Otabek said as he opened the door. He was drying his hands on one of the hand towels, wiping them clean and then opening and closing his palm, staring at it. 

“I’m sorry, Otabek,” Yuri said, twisting around to look at him over the back of the couch. 

“Me too,” Otabek said. 

Yuri grabbed his pants, pulling them on before he ran to Otabek. He paused just before he got there, blushing, and bowed his head. Perhaps Otabek didn’t want to be touched right now. 

But the next moment he felt Otabek’s hands on his shoulders, Otabek’s arms sinking around his torso. Yuri returned the embrace with a soft cry, so relieved to be back in Otabek’s hold again. 

Yuuri pulled his pants back on too, after he’d scrubbed whatever lubricant off that he could with a tissue. 

“Was it the thrust?” Victor asked as Yuri and Otabek came back around. Otabek sat, pulling Yuri with him, but their physicality was purely emotional comfort - not even a hint of arousal anymore. 

Otabek nodded. 

“Was touching Yuri comfortable for you, before that happened?” Victor asked. Then: “We don’t need to discuss if you’d rather not, either. Sometimes it’s just helpful to make sure everyone understands what limit was crossed, so we can try not to do it again.”

Otabek closed his eyes and sighed, head tilting back. He lifted his hand again, the hand that had been touching Yuri, and shook it faintly. 

“It was fine before. I was in control,” Otabek said. “When he thrust it felt like getting fucked. It was…” Terrifying? Mortifying? Horrific? Unbearable? “… Bad.”

Yuri shirked a little at those words, and Victor reached over to press a soothing hand to Yuri’s back. 

“It’s okay, Yuri. Don’t take any of this personally. You need to carry your emotions right now, OK? You don’t want the burden of them to keep Otabek from sharing in the future. Does that make sense?” 

Yuri swallowed, growled, was probably too young to fully understand what Victor was asking, but he looked at Otabek and wanted more than anything in the world for Otabek to feel better, so he nodded and set his self doubt aside. Otabek knew he was sorry. Otabek knew it was an accident. That would have to do.

And Otabek was hugging him again, kissing his cheek, his forehead. 

“You OK?” Otabek asked. 

Yuri nodded. “You?”

Otabek gave him another kiss on the cheek. “Yeah. But I want to go home now. With you. If you want.” 

“Night stretches and bed?” Yuri asked. It was one of the routines they’d started, one Yuri rather enjoyed. There was something about getting those exercise endorphins next to the person you loved that was irreplaceable. 

“Exactly,” Otabek said. 

The pair stood, and Victor and Yuuri joined them. Otabek found Yuri’s shirt, pulled it onto him, and Yuuri scrounged up Yuri’s socks. When Yuri was dressed again they lingered at the door. 

“Thank you for playing, as always,” Victor said. 

“Take care. If you want to talk through anything else just let us know,” Yuuri said. 

“Play again soon?” Yuri asked. 

“Soon as your boyfriend wants,” Victor said. 

“Soon,” Otabek promised, and they went their ways for the night.


	11. After Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zelda came out, y'all. 
> 
> That is my only excuse.
> 
> This is another plot-y chapter, but hey we finally got to the L words so I figured that warranted a bit of discussion. We'll return to your regularly scheduled hot, kinky dicking soon.

When the door closed behind Yuri and Otabek, Yuuri sighed and shuffled his feet.

“Victor,” Yuuri started. 

“Mm?” Victor was already starting to clean up, grabbing the blankets and folding them, tucking the lube back into its hiding spots.

“Not to make tonight even more complicated,” Yuuri started, “But I… er…”

Victor realized Yuuri was gearing himself up for something and paused his work. 

“What is it, Yuuri?” Victor smiled in encouragement.

“I said ‘I love you’ to Yurio,” Yuuri blushed. 

He wasn’t expecting Victor to chuckle in response.

“Good. I was going to call you on it if you didn’t figure it out soon,” Victor grinned, lifting Yuuri’s chin and planting a soft kiss on his lips. 

Yuuri’s blush darkened.

“You knew?”

Victor gave Yuuri a fond, skeptical glance, “Yuuri… did you forget the year I spent pining for you while you were oblivious? I know what you look like when you’ve fallen for someone and haven’t figured it out yet.” 

He picked up Yuuri’s glasses and gently slid them back onto his bright red face, tousling his hair. 

“As long as you honor our relationship and Yuri’s relationship with Otabek first, I don’t see any harm in it,” Victor said. “It feels good, doesn’t it? I love watching the two of you together. What did Yurio say?” 

“He said he knew, and that he felt it, too…”

Victor touched a thoughtful finger to his lips.

“Probably as close as you’re going to get to reciprocation from him,” Victor decided. “Let’s make sure Otabek knows, too, so there aren’t any uncomfortable surprises down the road. Can you talk with Yuri and make sure he knows?”

Yuuri nodded.

Victor kissed his forehead. “Good. And I’m fond of Yurio, too. Not quite as much as you, but I like being around him and Otabek. Even if things sometimes don’t go as planned.”

“Rarely go as planned,” Yuuri corrected.

“Isn’t it more fun that way?” 

“ _Fun_ ,” Yuuri repeated, eyes turning dark and sly as he grabbed Victor’s collar and pulled him down for an almost-kiss, “is you grabbing that flogger and meeting me in the practice room.”

— 

Yuri tapped the balls of his feet against his forehead, taking a moment to wiggle before the final part of his stretch. When he was ready, he nodded at Otabek, standing behind the loose O of Yuri’s body. Otabek gripped Yuri’s thighs and slowly, firmly pressed them farther back and down. Yuri groaned at the tension but didn’t tell Otabek to stop, not until he felt his heels touch his hair.

“There,” Yuri gasped. Otabek held him steady as Yuri cursed and let out strained breaths, growing increasingly aggressive as time passed. 

“Thirty seconds,” Otabek warned. Yuri let out a string of Russian curses, the sort Lilia would have kicked him out of class for saying. 

“Ten seconds.” Yuri almost screamed, hands tightening into fists. 

When the minute mark passed and Otabek let up, Yuri gasped and carefully unfurled, like a little flower. He sat back, panting, groaning at the way his body sang after such a strenuous stretch. Everywhere was warm and activated, all of his muscles buzzing, vibrating with the thud thud of blood through his veins. 

Yuri grabbed his cup and guzzled down the water, sighing as he rolled into a more pleasant lunge and then split to cool down.

Otabek had already finished his stretches; they did most of them in parallel, only the final few pair stretches separating their routines. After a moment, Yuri felt something strange in Otabek’s gaze. He followed Otabek’s eyes between his legs to find the startling outline of his cock, hard and pulsing down the left leg of his tights. Yuri blushed and twisted out of his splits, turning away.

“Sorry.”

He’d been getting fewer random erections as he aged out of that embarrassing-teenage-boy phase of life, but given how close he’d been before everything went sideways at Victor and Yuuri’s place… 

“Victor said you choked learning to blow him,” Otabek said. 

Yuri didn’t get the connection, but he snorted in acknowledgment, “Only a few times.” Yuri glanced back over his shoulder, eyes questioning. 

Otabek shrugged. “He said you kept trying until you did it.”

“How else are you supposed to learn?”

Something about Otabek’s eyes made Yuri feel like he’d just stumbled into a trap. 

“Come here,” Otabek said.

Yuri blinked. “Wh—”

“Come here.” 

“Otchka —”

“You didn’t back down. Don’t say I should,” Otabek said, and Yuri saw a familiar hardness in his eyes. A warrior staking his position.

Yuri felt Otabek’s gaze like an electric tether between them, drawing him in almost against his will. He got up and stepped closer, cracking the knuckles of his toes as he shifted his weight on them. They locked eyes for a timeless moment, waging invisible war, before Yuri’s head finally dropped in submission. He offered a disgruntled growl and nestled up to Otabek. 

“Are you sure?” Yuri asked.

“Strip,” Otabek commanded. 

Yuri hooked his fingers in his tights, pulling everything down and off his legs. The hem of his shirt danced just above his groin, every so often grazing the top of his cock. 

Otabek sat with his back against the bed, and Yuri didn’t have to be told to settle in his lap. Yuri coiled there, leaning his back against Otabek’s chest. 

“I won’t thrust,” Yuri said. 

“I want you to,” Otabek said.

“Otchka —“ 

“ _Boy_.”

Yuri’s cock jumped. The name. The tone of Otabek’s voice. He shivered.

“ _Sir_ — I don’t want to h—” Yuri’s breath turned into a hiss as Otabek grabbed him again. He swallowed, eyes squeezing shut, and whatever argument he’d been about to make metamorphosed into a moan.

Unlike Yuuri and Victor, Otabek didn’t have tiny bottles of lube hidden under every cushion. Yuri’s skin was sticky with sweat, and Otabek’s hand could hardly move. He grimaced and gave Yuri’s still-sore ass a nudge. 

“Nightstand drawer.”

Yuri rose quickly, pattering over, heart thudding in his chest. He opened the drawer and realized that the eagle he’d seen atop the nightstand his first visit was no longer alone. An elegant tiger stalked alongside it, regal and proud.

Yuri blushed bright red, grabbing the bottle and closing the drawer. 

In one smooth motion he set it down next to Otabek and slid into his lap. 

It didn’t take long for Otabek to coat his palm and fingers and wrap his hand back around Yuri. The touch pulled a lazy sigh from Yuri as he leaned back, murmuring his appreciation.

“You’re sure it’s OK?” Yuri asked softly. “We did so much tonight. I don’t want to force you, we can just go to b—” 

“Yuri.” Otabek’s tone silenced him immediately. Otabek wouldn’t expect _him_ to back down. That was the point. Try until you succeed. Yuri needed to trust Otabek. No, he needed to believe in Otabek.

“Thrust slowly,” Otabek said. 

He held his hand still, a tight circle around Yuri’s cock, and Yuri bit his lip as he lifted his hips and pushed it through Otabek’s fingers. He felt the tension in Otabek’s form but there was no gasp or inhale or any other expression of Otabek’s discomfort. Yuri lowered his hips, then lifted them once more, slowly fucking that tight grip.

“Nnn…” he whimpered. “Otchka…” 

Otabek was touching him. His master, his keeper, his lover, he was touching him _there_ and it felt So. Damn. Good.

“Stop.” 

Yuri froze, hips locking into place. Otabek’s fingers splayed out and then tightened again, reforming their sleeve. This time Otabek started to move, gliding the cylinder of his hand down Yuri’s cock and up again.

“O-Otchka,” Yuri gasped. He braced his hands on Otabek’s thighs, squeezing.

“Guide me. What else?” 

Yuri swallowed, glancing up at Otabek before covering his hand. Their fingers laced, and Yuri felt the familiar solidity of his cock, the soft squish of lube, the sensuous heat of Otabek’s skin. 

“I love those long strokes,” Yuri murmured. “When I get closer I mix it up like this…”

He shortened the distance that their hands moved and focused the strokes near the head. He rounded their combined fingers over the little ridge where squishy head converted to solid shaft. A few quick brushes, and then he returned to the steady, tip-to-root method. 

“I’m going to come soon,” Yuri warned. “If you want this to last you have to stop.”

Otabek, not having any arousal of his own to worry about, did so easily, loosening his hand. He used the very backs of his knuckles to brush along Yuri’s cock, and Yuri gasped at how so light a touch could make his whole body quake. He thrust again, cock lobbing with blood, then leaned back against Otabek, taking several slow breaths. 

“You’ve never touched yourself?” Yuri couldn’t help but ask.

“In the shower. For cleaning,” Otabek shrugged. 

“And it just… doesn’t feel like anything?” 

“Like skin.” 

Yuri’s head shook faintly side to side. He couldn’t imagine living without this pleasure. He wondered if Otabek was equally unable to imagine how it _was_ so pleasurable. 

“OK,” Yuri said after a few quick breaths. “More.”

Otabek’s hand returned, but his touch was more exploratory this time. Instead of going immediately to the sleeve of his fingers, he held Yuri’s cock between his thumb and forefinger, dragging just those two digits along the top and underside. It happened to hit all of Yuri’s little sensitive spots and he twitched in arousal, squeezing Otabek’s thigh with his clean hand while the lubricated one hovered. 

“I’m so close again,” Yuri groaned, blushing.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Otabek asked.

“I usually last longer,” Yuri mumbled.

“You said that last time.”

“You’re different. It’s different with you. When I’m with you I—” Yuri’s blush darkened. “No one’s ever turned me on like you do.”

Otabek’s fingers curled around him again and his fingers dug into Otabek’s thigh.

“You can come, Yuri,” Otabek said.

Yuri desperately wanted to come. Otabek didn’t have the conspicuous number of tissue boxes littered around the room that Victor and Yuuri did, but Yuri was finding it harder to care about the mess with Otabek’s voice at his ear, giving him permission, and Otabeks’ fingers around his cock, pulling him closer. Yuri brought his other hand between his legs, cupping his balls, gingerly tugging on them as Otabek stroked.

“I want to thrust,” Yuri said, but it came out as more of a whimper.

“Thrust.”

He lifted his hips into Otabek’s grip, gasping, pushing the head of his cock against and then through Otabek’s fingers. As the tip crested Otabek’s fist it gushed warm white over all over his hand. Otabek was familiar with the texture, the heat, the color. Mostly he watched Yuri. Even if the sight of his lover coming wasn’t _erotic_ , no one could deny the aesthetic of such a sculpted, fine-tuned body at its peak. 

Otabek kept slowly jerking (he would have stopped, but he had seen enough with Victor and Yuuri to realize it felt best to continue) until Yuri stilled in his lap.

He’d made Yuri come. Again. And this time he hadn’t panicked like a child. Otabek sat with that satisfaction, his own form of afterglow.

Now what?

Now was when Victor would take care of Yuri. Tissues. Blankets. Juice. Otabek blinked out of his haze and carefully unwrapped his fingers, keeping as much of the cum on his hand as possible. He went to the sink.

“No, don’t!” Yuri said, but Otabek was already sticking his hand in the water. 

Yuri winced. 

He stood up, teetering, and pulled Otabek’s hand out.

“It doesn’t mix with water,” Yuri said. “It gets…” But Otabek was already staring at the sticky, chunky goop on his hand, closer to glue now than the slick gel it had been. 

Yuri grabbed a paper towel and started scraping it off, working the paper between each of Otabek’s fingers. He kept wiping until only a faint stickiness remained, needing only a bit of soap.

“Don’t get it in your drains, either,” Yuri said, tossing the towel pointedly in the bin.

Otabek gave him a questioning look. 

Yuri appeared momentarily mortified, then growled angrily at the sink. “Lilia brought in a plumber when my shower stopped draining well. When I came home that evening she said, ‘You should sin in bed like a normal person’.” Otabek looked at him and then barked. Yuri blinked in alarm, only to realize that Otabek was _laughing_. Yuri’s cheeks blossomed with a strange mix of joy and shame.

“How often?” He asked, and Yuri had never heard him sound bemused before.

Yuri kicked at the ground, rubbing the ball of his foot into the linoleum. 

“Mornings and evenings,” he said, defensive. 

“Twice a day?” Otabek asked in surprise. Yuri growled.

“It’s not that much!” 

“Do you know how many times I’ve had an orgasm?” Otabek asked. 

“…. Never?” Yuri asked. 

“Three times,” Otabek said. Yuri’s eyes went wide until Otabek amended: “Dreams.” 

“Never _consciously_ ,” Yuri corrected. “… Not even out of curiosity? Is touching yourself as bad as other people touching you?”

Otabek considered, shook his head. “It’s not the same. I don’t care about touching myself. I just never…” He shrugged and changed the subject. “How do you survive spending the night with me? Before tonight.” 

Yuri blushed. “ _Well_ …” He cleared this throat and glanced at the bathroom door.

“You masturbated here?” Otabek asked.

“I _jerked off_ ,” Yuri said. “I told you, you drive me crazy.”

Otabek leaned against the counter, looking up and down the naked skater. He grabbed Yuri’s wrist and reeled him in, lips meeting in a delicate communion.

“I like that,” Otabek said. 

“Driving me crazy?”

He nodded, finding Yuri’s lips again, and set his hand over the sore skin of Yuri’s ass. He squeezed gently, savored the whimper Yuri breathed into his mouth, and then scooped Yuri into his arms the way he’d seen Victor do it. Yuri’s arms braced around Otabek’s neck, then Otabek’s lips grabbed onto Yuri’s again and continued their slow kiss.

Otabek carried Yuri from the kitchen, each step taking its sweet time, the motion a simple background story to the focus of their kiss. He carried Yuri past the couch, to the edge of the bed. He crawled onto it, on his knees, and carefully laid down with Yuri against him, never breaking that kiss.

Otabek glanced down Yuri’s body, fingers trailing along his side. 

“Look,” Otabek said, and Yuri didn’t have to glance down to know what he’d find. “You’re getting hard again.”

Yuri’s body arched towards Otabek’s fingers, every part of him attuned and reaching for that contact. 

“Just from me touching you?” Otabek asked. “Kissing you?”

Yuri’s cheeks were all the answer he could manage, but it had been rhetorical anyway. His body was proof of how Otabek’s touch affected him. 

And Otabek? Otabek _enjoyed_ that in a way he’d never imagined. He’d never considered himself sexual, never imagined that it was a sphere of life he’d ever partake in. And yet, the longer he was with Yuri, the more he could see himself through Yuri’s eyes and realize he was a major part of Yuri’s sexual world. 

It gave him a bizarre, sacred sort of power, keeper of his lover’s pleasure. 

He remembered how it felt to have all three of them looking to him for permission. He remembered how it felt to have Yuuri obey him. He remembered how it felt to have Victor’s tongue sliding over his fingers, his palm, cleaning Yuri’s cum away. 

“On your stomach,” Otabek commanded, because he wanted Yuri to obey him. 

“Sir,” Yuri murmured, rolling ninety degrees. 

Otabek touched Yuri’s ass, still slightly pinker than normal. He squeezed the muscle of it, like he’d seen Victor do to Yuuri, and Yuri groaned. The lube was still by the bed, forgotten after Yuri had come, and Otabek grabbed the little bottle, squeezing it over Yuri’s ass and watching it dribble onto his asshole. It must have been cold, or exciting, or both, because Yuri’s muscles clenched together, spreading the lubricant quite effectively. 

“Put your fingers in,” Otabek commanded. 

Yuri reached back, brushing his fingertips into the wet gel. 

“How many?” Yuri asked. 

“Two.” 

He rolled his two fingers in the puddle of lube and then pushed them against his body. He was tight with eagerness, had to force himself to take a breath and exhale slow. 

Otabek’s hand was still on his ass, half on his upper thigh, like spotting him for some sort of acrobatic feat. 

But instead it was just the lewd show of Yuri fingering himself, pressing them both into his body, slow at first, then in deep, until his palm was resting on his ass.

“In and out,” Otabek said. He was shuffling around but Yuri had his eyes closed, focused on his fingers. He remembered what Victor said about where his spot was and reached for it, but the angle was terrible. Yuri lifted his fingers obediently out of his ass and then back in again, grinding his erection against the sheets as he did. 

“Faster.”

Yuri pumped his fingers in and out of his ass, wrist starting to ache from the awkward orientation, but he didn’t do it for long before Otabek said “Stop.”

“Take them out.” 

Yuri did, curling his fingers so as not to smear the lube on the sheets. 

Something else started to press against Yuri’s asshole.

It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t the same toy from before. He glanced back and saw Otabek holding the flare of a medium-sized plug. It was exotic looking: iridescent and pearly and with soft little points all along it, like rounded barbs. Just the sight made Yuri’s ass clench, and Otabek glanced up at him with a calm, satisfied expression. 

“Excited?” 

“Mm,” Yuri purred. 

“Victor said you might like spending the night with something inside you,” Otabek said. 

They both saw Yuri’s body react.

“He said it would keep you open for the toy in the morning,” Otabek went on. “If you get your morning craving.”

Yuri’s mouth watered at the idea. 

“Put it in!” Yuri growled.

“Ask nicely.”

“ _Please_.”

“Please what?”

“Please, _Sir_ ,” Yuri groaned, lifting his hips up towards the toy, but Otabek moved it away at the same speed, refusing to let Yuri impale himself. 

“Say what you want.” 

Yuri pounded his fist against the sheets, thrusting against them.

“Please, Sir, shove it in!” 

Otabek shoved. 

“Aihhh!” Yuri cried out, his body unprepared for the sudden stretch. He froze up, tense, clutching around the barbed monster inside of him, and would have come if he hadn’t already less than an hour ago. He spent a moment just squeezing and releasing with his ass, getting used to the presence of the plug. The flare pressed against his sore ass cheeks, and with his rhythmic sucking it felt like a slow massage.

Otabek set his hand on the flare, pressing firmly, and when he released Yuri felt the tingle of the barbs near the base as they scraped and tickled inside him. 

Then Otabek rolled over him, lowered himself down so that his groin was pressing against the flare. He kept Yuri pinned with his weight and began that easy rhythm. Press. Release. Press. Release. 

Fuck.

Yuri pressed his face into the pillow, hugging it to hide the deep moan.

“Please fuck me until I come, Sir,” Yuri begged when he came up for breath, thighs squeezing together to make his ass bunch up into a more appealing target. Just the rocking motion of Otabek above him was so erotic; like with the toy, it was easy to imagine it was Otabek inside of him.

Only the toy couldn’t quite get a good angle on his prostate, and for as wonderful as it felt, he didn’t have the normal crescendo towards orgasm that usually accompanied getting fucked.

Yuri laid under Otabek, enjoying and contemplating both of these things, and realized abruptly that he didn’t mind not coming. Something more important was happening. He rolled onto his back underneath Otabek, spreading his legs so that Otabek rested between them. He hooked one of his ankles over Otabek’s, wrapped his arms around Otabek’s neck, and pulled him down for more kisses.

“What about getting fucked?” Otabek asked in a pause. 

“Maybe… maybe I want to make love instead,” Yuri murmured, blushing. He glanced up at Otabek, down, then shyly nuzzled against Otabek’s cheek. “Maybe that’s why you drive me wild. It’s more than just a fuck with you.” 

Otabek’s fingers came to Yuri’s hair, gliding through, brushing it to the side so he could see both Yuri’s eyes. 

“Yuuri said he loved me today,” Yuri blurted. “And I feel it, I feel it when we’re together, but it’s not… it’s nothing like what I feel with you. When I’m with you it’s like…” 

Yuri didn’t know how to articulate it. He set his hands on Otabek’s forearms, not noticing how stiff Otabek had gone at the mention of Yuuri. “I’m just… I’m _yours_ and I feel like I was always supposed to be yours.” 

He blushed, growled at himself, looking away in anger. “That sounds dumb.”

Otabek pulled his knees underneath him, straddling Yuri. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the wooden tiger there. 

“Not dumb,” Otabek said. He held out the carving and Yuri propped himself up on his elbows, taking it. It must have been oiled, or stained, the raw wood glistening faintly in his hand as he admired it. “I said I liked the idea of you being mine.” 

Yuri blushed, nodded. 

“Maybe like was too weak a word,” Otabek said. Yuri’s eyes flashed up to him but that was all Otabek offered. Yuri kissed the tiger, then tucked it next to the eagle once more. His fingers paused, tracing down the eagle’s back and across its broad wings. 

“Otabek, I —” Yuri started, but Otabek’s lips cut him off. 

They both sank back into the mattress, bodies anchored together, and spent the night offering soft kisses and pleasant silence until they fell asleep.


	12. Riskier Endeavors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to all y'all who requested more Victuuri action, and especially [Sintina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintina/pseuds/Sintina), whose love for exhibitionism has worn off on me. Or at least inspired this chapter! 
> 
> That said, it's a comparatively poor/short chapter, and I apologize for the dip in quality. I could wait and only write when I'm ~inspired~ but frankly this series is my candy and I figure it's better to plow through the not-so-good until we get back to the great stuff.

“You said you loved him.” 

Yuuri had just come out of the showers, sitting in a towel on the locker bench scrubbing another towel at his hair. He hadn’t heard Otabek approach, but looked up now to find Otabek similarly clothed, towel tied at his waist. This wouldn’t have been Yuuri’s first choice as far as locations for intimate interpersonal conversations, but Yuuri had intentionally taken a locker in the farthest area from the entrance, specifically to avoid other people, so at the very least they wouldn’t be immediately overheard.

“I did,” Yuuri blushed. He rubbed the towel around the edge of his ears, then under his arms, then rolled it and let it hang over his shoulders. “… Are you upset?”

Otabek sat down next to Yuuri, hands on his towel-covered knees.

“I was.” 

Yuuri remembered the time he found out about Chris. How insecure and panicked he’d been at first. He tried to compartmentalize the fear he was feeling; but it was always so damn hard. He swallowed. 

“Something changed?” 

Otabek looked over at Yuuri, then away again. Otabek had never been communicative. Even describing him as a brick wall sometimes felt too generous. But he spoke to Yuri - quite happily, even - so Yuuri bit his tongue and hoped and waited. 

“You can’t give him what I can,” Otabek said. 

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “I couldn’t ever. Your love will always be special and unique.” That was what he and Victor had spent so long talking about. So long grounding themselves around. They shared their bodies with others because of that undying, unassailable confidence that what the two of them shared was irreplaceable, and no matter how many times Yuuri plowed through Yuri’s body, no matter how his heart thumped when he saw Yuri’s vulnerability, it would never be the same as what he shared with Victor. That was what they’d sworn their lives to.

He rolled his ring with his thumb.

“But you can give him things I can’t, too,” Otabek said, breaking Yuuri from his thoughts.

Sex, Yuuri expected. 

What he didn’t expect was Otabek’s hand on his thigh. 

Yuuri froze, completely motionless, only glancing to ensure they weren’t visible to anyone else. He wasn’t even breathing as Otabek’s hand advanced up his thigh, and by the time it reached the crux of his body Yuuri was completely erect and speechless. 

Otabek groped him, still not even looking at him, and Yuuri’s lips parted in surprise. 

“I want us to share his body,” Otabek said. “You can be surrogate for what I want to give him.”

His hand explored Yuuri’s shape. 

“I’ll command you. Tell you what to do to him,” Otabek continued. Yuuri’s lip was nearly bleeding from how tightly he held it between his teeth. “He’ll feel the love in you. He can imagine what it would be like with me.”

Otabek squeezed again, fist tightening around Yuuri’s toweled cock. Then he was on his feet, fingers popping free. By the time Yuuri remembered to breathe Otabek was gone and he was left in a tented towel, wondering what in the world just happened. 

Victor found him that way a minute later, if that, and Yuuri’s reaction was immediate. 

The lockers rattled as Yuuri crushed Victor’s chest against them. Victor was fresh out of the shower, hair still dripping, and he left wet palm prints on the metal as he braced himself and gasped. 

Yuuri’s hand clapped over Victor’s mouth to prevent any more noise from escaping, sliding up behind him until Victor was pinned.

“Quiet,” Yuuri hissed, but he didn’t take his hand away from Victor’s mouth. He ground his erection against Victor’s thigh, his other hand reaching under Victor’s towel, lifting it. Victor’s eyes widened in shock, glancing just like Yuuri had to see who was watching, but there was no one. Yuuri’s locker was the only one of the regulars’ in this cube, and the rink was already closed to the public for the evening. Victor kept staring at the open side of the cube, but he’d gone still as Yuuri’s hand found his cock, half-erect and rapidly hardening. 

It was funny how Victor would use any amount of alcohol as an excuse to disrobe in public, but he always managed this aroused sort of horror when Yuuri initiated their riskier sexual encounters. 

Yuuri pulled his hand back, sucking on two of his fingers, letting Victor see his tongue slathering saliva between them. He pulled his fingers out, slipped them back underneath Victor’s towel, careful not to let the extra drool drip away or rub off on the terrycloth. 

Victor was tight. Part of it was surely from the situation, but Yuuri hadn’t been fucking Victor as often as normal, either. Yuuri frequently bottomed, and happily so, but when the urge struck him he could be a monster of a top. Most of those urges had been funneled into Yuri recently, and Yuuri realized, as he thought about it, that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been inside his husband. 

“Shh,” Yuuri whispered again as Victor let out a muted grunt. Yuuri’s first finger had pushed into his body, wiggling into the warm heat, forcing the tight circle of wrinkled skin open. Yuuri didn’t waste any time; this wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t slow. He needed to come, and he wanted it to be in Victor. 

His second finger joined the first, and Victor adjusted his position with a muffled groan, softening his knees to get the height right. They were both hyper-aware of the sounds coming from farther up the hall that connected all the little horseshoes of lockers. Georgi was talking about _something_ dramatic to who knows who; there was a sharp clang of metal as someone (probably Yuri) slammed their locker door a bit too hard. 

Yuuri breathed over Victor’s damp shoulder, licking up one of the wet trails on the back of his neck. He felt the sharp inhale in response, a quick cool breeze against the hand clamped over Victor’s mouth. Yuuri smirked, pulling out his fingers and reaching under the flap of his towel. 

Another muffled noise hit Yuuri’s palm as he pushed the tip of his cock against the sweet, tight resistance of his husband’s ass. 

“Come on,” Yuuri whispered. “Open up.”

He was so damn tight. The head of Yuuri’s cock pressed futilely against that muscle, barely making a dent, and for once they didn’t have lube on hand to make it easier. 

“Victor.” Yuuri’s voice was barely audible. “Push back on me. Let me fuck you.”

Victor’s eyes closed. He took a breath and pushed his ass back as he exhaled, legs widening. There was a moment of give in the muscle of his ass and Yuri took full advantage of it, thrusting into Victor’s body. Victor sucked air in through his nose, and Yuuri had to grab his waist to keep him from rising out of reach on his toes. Yuuri thrust again, and Victor’s damp palm squeaked across the locker, catching at the vents.

Yuuri couldn’t thrust as hard as he wanted to; couldn’t smack his thighs against Victor’s ass the way he loved. He moved as quickly as he could without sacrificing their silence. The angle wasn’t great, but he knew when he hit Victor’s prostate by the way everything finally loosened up and Victor’s body started enjoying it. The sounds of the locker room were fading, people heading out for the night. 

“Where’s Victor?” they heard Yuri ask. 

Yuuri tightened at Yuri’s voice, froze for a fraction of a second as the footsteps started down the hallway, but he couldn’t stop. 

He sank his teeth into Victor’s shoulder, hips blurring as he gave up on his normal steady rhythm and just tried to fuck his dick into Victor’s ass as quickly as he could.

“Victor!” 

Yuuri dropped his palm from Victor’s mouth, giving him a warning glare. He was so god damn close. 

Victor cleared his throat, licked his lips, glanced back at his husband pummeling into his ass.

“Changing!” Victor called. “Give me a minute!” He managed it with only a slight hitch in his voice as Yuuri jammed up against his prostate again. 

The footsteps stopped, replaced by one of Yuri’s angry growls. 

Yuuri returned his attention to Victor, thinking they were home free, only to have Yuri’s voice continue.

“Victor. Your clothes are still over here,” Yuri said when he reached the frontmost cube. Most of the regulars - Yuri and Victor included - had chosen their lockers there for convenience. “What are you—“ 

The footsteps started trekking back towards Yuuri’s cube. The rush of it, knowing he had seconds left before discovery, made Yuuri’s balls tighten up. 

He was so close. He was so painfully, incredibly close. 

Victor looked back at Yuuri, but Yuuri didn’t have any more ideas. He dug his nails into Victor’s hip, finally giving in and slamming home a few earth-shattering thrusts, angling so the towel would dampen the sound of their bodies colliding. He was racing against the sound of Yuri’s footsteps. Three cubes away. Two.

“ _Davai, davai, davai_!” Victor rasped under his breath.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Yuri drew blood on Victor’s shoulder, shoved against him as he came, and pulled away as the last little spurt of cum was still leaving his cock. It landed on Victor’s achilles as their towels fell back into place, just as Yuri rounded the corner.

Victor sat, exhausted, on the bench, glancing up at Yuri. 

“What did you want?” he asked, dumbly. 

Yuri looked at the wet outline of Victor’s chest and cheek and arms on the lockers. Yuuri had his back to Yuri, face buried in his locker as he caught his breath. 

“Did you just…” Yuri started.

“Just?” Victor asked, breathlessly. 

But Yuri was too embarrassed to say it out loud. He glanced at them, glanced back down the hall, and Victor didn’t miss the little jump of cloth between his legs as he stalked away again.

It was Yuuri who started giggling, but the next moment Victor was laughing, too. Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor, kissing him, kissing the bright hickey on his shoulder and the dots of blood. 

“Oh, that’s bad, isn’t it?” Yuuri asked when he saw the wet marks on the locker. Victor rose on wobbly legs, pulling off his towel and wiping the lockers down. He was still hard from the fucking, and that was how Yuri found him when he came back for the third time. 

“You really just can’t stay away, can you?” Victor asked. Yuri glanced at Victor’s cock again, and without answering sat down on the bench. He tilted his head, gesturing Victor towards him, and did that thing where his mouth hung slightly open that nearly made Victor come then and there. 

Victor looked at Yuuri, who nodded his permission, and Victor — still with an eye towards the opening, still listening for any other footsteps — held out his cock to Yuri. It disappeared into Yuri’s mouth almost instantly, hit the back of his throat and continued, much to Victor’s amazement. 

“Have you been practicing, Yurio?” Yuuri asked. It was decent enough talk. Nothing anyone listening in might have reason to think was inappropriate. Yuri opened an eye to look at Yuuri, smirking around his mouthful in affirmation. 

He _did_ want to be the best, after all.

“Your technique’s improved,” Victor said. “Since the last time you tried that move.” 

Yuri pulled off enough to get another breath of air, then went down again. Victor took a handful of Yuri’s hair and started to thrust into his mouth. To Yuri’s credit, he only gagged once, and the reflex was quickly subverted. Yuri kept his throat open, and Victor went deep on every thrust. In their periphery, Yuuri moved to the edge of the locker cube, standing beside it in his towel as an extra level of protection to make sure no one interrupted their game. He saw Otabek standing at the end of the hall, brow quirked, and waved him over. 

“Don’t forget to breathe when you’re gearing up for your finale,” Victor said, almost conversationally, and pulled out enough that Yuri could take a deep breath. He was certain Yuri could sense the way Victor’s cock was starting to pulse in his mouth, threatening to burst. Victor could still feel Yuuri in his ass, hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed that, and it wasn’t going to take much more.

As soon as he was sure Yuri had a lungful of air Victor plugged Yuri’s throat with his cock, sending his cum straight down into Yuri’s stomach. He pumped it full of milky goo, not even aware that Otabek had joined Yuuri and was watching from the sidelines. 

Yuuri, on the other hand, was quite aware, his senses homed in on the now fully dressed Kazakh standing immediately behind and to the side of him. 

As Victor pulled his cock out of Yuri’s throat, Yuri gave it a lapping kiss to clean the salty, stubborn bead of cum off the tip. Victor put a finger on Yuri’s lower teeth, holding his mouth open, and used the other hand to squeeze the last of the fluid out of his cock and wipe it on Yuri’s tongue. 

Then he tied his towel back around his waist, kissed Yuri’s forehead, and walked past Otabek and Yuuri without a word. 

“Victor,” Yuuri called. 

Victor paused. 

“Spiral,” Yuuri said. Victor bent his hips forward, lifting one leg at the same time as he stretched backwards. Before he could reach for where his blade ought to be, Yuuri caught his leg, licking away the stray fleck of cum on his ankle. Then he pushed Victor’s leg back down, and let Victor swagger red-cheeked to his locker.

Yuri swallowed, licking his lips, and relished Otabek and Yuuri’s attention. He stood up, stretching under their gaze, and looked questioningly at his master.

“Risky,” Otabek said. 

“Yuuri was watching out.”

“He was watching _you_.”

Yuri wanted to counter that, but all he could feel in response was pride. He stepped up next to Otabek while Yuuri finished changing, and Otabek found that familiar place on the small of his back.

“Did you watch me?” Yuri murmured.

“Yes.”

“… Did you like it?” 

Otabek contemplated, gazing down at that single green eye and the blonde locks that hid the other. 

“You’re… impressive,” Otabek said. “I like that.”

Yuri savored the warmth that Otabek’s praise generated in the pit of his stomach. He leaned against his lover, and Otabek held the extra weight easily.

Victor returned, changed into his street clothes, and Yuuri shouldered his bag, ready to depart.

“Liked sucking Victor, did you?” Yuuri whispered, groping Yuri as he passed him. Yuri hadn’t even realized he was hard, but he was getting used to that feeling. Victor and Yuuri had unleashed something wild in him, and now that Otabek was playing with him as well, his body was at a constant, low-level state of arousal. 

“Otabek and I could stand guard if you want to take care of him, Yuuri,” Victor offered. 

“I just showered,” Yuuri said. 

“But look at the poor kitten,” Victor said, only to receive a powerful glare and a not-so-powerful kick from Yuri. 

“Watch it old man,” Yuri said. Victor feigned offense, holding the back of his hand to his forehead as they walked out. Otabek adjusted his alignment with Yuri, putting more space between them as they walked past the rink staff. He still wasn't truly comfortable with public affection.

“Yuri, is Friday still a rest day for you?” Victor asked. 

“Mm.”

“And have you synched your schedule with Otabek’s?”

“Only Fridays,” Otabek said. 

“Then… we can all have a late night Thursday,” Victor said. His devious tone of voice made them all worry. Yuuri narrowed his eyes.

“You aren’t thinking ab—”

“I am!” Victor grinned, a bounce in his step. “We have enough time to take them shopping for outfits tomorrow and everything.”

“Do you really think they’re ready?” Yuuri side-eyed his husband.

“They don’t have to play. First timers always watch anyway. Just… see what there is to see.”

Otabek and Yuri shared a look.

“What are you talking about?” Yuri growled.

The air was starting to get cool; Yuuri pulled up the hood of his jacket as they left the rink, but he was also watching Victor closely, gauging his reactions.

“A club,” Victor said. “For folks like us.”

“A gay bar?” Yuri looked skeptical.

“A dungeon,” he wagged his eyebrows.

Yuuri gave Victor an admonishing glance. “Don’t be so dramatic.” He looked at the two. “It’s a kink club. They have play parties on the third Thursday of the month. You can come as our guests and … well, be inspired.”

Victor had a curious spark in his eye, the tip of his tongue just barely visible between his teeth, and Yuuri drank in the nuance of that expression with an increasing fire in his belly. He knew his husband well enough that he could imagine almost perfectly what was going through Victor’s head: ‘ _We’ll show them a good time. What if we put on a scene?! Yuuri can dom me. Oh that’s embarrassing. Ohh but I’m hard._ ’

“… People don’t recognize you?” Yuri frowned, and Yuuri’s eyes flashed back to him. 

“Someone recognized Victor once, but it’s not something people talk about outside of the party itself. It’s a private event; you have to be a member to be invited. People that break the rules don’t last.”

Yuri had that intrigued, determined look on his face. 

“Up to you,” Yuuri said, but he had a challenging smirk. “Victor and I almost always go if we’re in town. Who knows… You might see something you like.” They paused at Otabek’s bike, watched Otabek climb on and Yuri slide into place behind him. Lilia had already yelled at Yuri for how much time he was spending away, but it hadn’t quite curbed his behavior yet. That, and Otabek seemed more than content to have Yuri warming his bed. “Just let us know so we can tell the host… and get something nice for you both to wear.” 

“You have to tell us more tomorrow,” Yuri glared. 

“Deal.” 

Otabek gunned his bike and the pair jetted off, leaving Victor and Yuuri to walk home. 

“So what was that all about?” Victor asked. “Not that I’m complaining, of course…”

Yuuri grinned at him, slipping his arm around Victor’s waist. “Otabek touched me. Said he wanted me to stand in for him. You know, fuck Yuri in his place while he commands me and tells me what to do to him.” 

“Ooh, how sexy,” Victor grinned, squeezing Yuuri’s shoulder. “Not what I was expecting.”

“Me neither,” Yuuri said, tilting his face up towards the sky. 

“And then… I came along at the right time? You realized there was someone else you wanted to fuck?” Victor teased. 

“Someone else I _always_ want to fuck,” Yuuri corrected. “It’s been too long. I’ve been neglecting you.”

“Hardly.”

Yuuri gave him that side eye again.

“Perhaps you haven’t had me as often as normal,” Victor finally admitted. “But I’ve had plenty to enjoy in the mean time. I meant what I said about loving the two of you together.” Yuuri gave him an encouraging look and Victor grinned, raising a hand in the air. 

“I love getting to see you fuck someone else, and it happens so rarely,” Victor said, holding out one finger. Yuuri had mostly been on the receiving end the last time they’d had another partner in bed.

“I love watching him writhe underneath you. I think your cock is a better fit for his body than mine. You seem to line up just right with his spot, and he dances on you, Yuuri. It’s beautiful.” He extended a second finger as he spoke, then the third finger: 

“I love getting to lick you out of him.” 

“That only happened once!”

“ _So far_ ,” Victor countered. 

Yuuri laughed. “Alright. Go on.”

“I love pretending it’s me, sometimes, underneath you,” Victor said with his fourth finger. “Just watching how your cock slides into him…” Victor shivered. 

“You’re tighter than he is, now, you know,” Yuuri said. “Otabek must be really stretching him out. He feels incredible.”

“Ah, yes, we bought him a plug to sleep with,” Victor said. 

“ _We_? Sneaking away on more lunches with Otabek?” 

“If we trained Yuri to sub, we have to train Otabek to dom,” Victor grinned.

“Shouldn’t _I_ be the one teaching Otabek to dom?” Yuuri wagged his eyebrows. 

“Coy,” Victor smirked. 

“Accurate.”

“ _Eros_!”

“ _Silver_.” 

“You really aren’t going to back down, are you?” Victor draped himself over Yuuri as they walked. 

“From my love? Never.”

Yuuri hooked his hands on Victor’s arm. They clomped awkwardly along the sidewalk, leaning on and supporting each other, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	13. Little Kitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised two things in the last chapter and this isn't either of them but it got into my head and it wouldn't get out and I think this is the longest chapter since the original one off? 
> 
> So... sorry ._. Kind of. 
> 
> PS: Should I add more tags to this? I only use AO3 for posting, so I have no idea how tags actually work. We've built up quite a backlog of kinks at this point so I'm wondering what y'all think appropriate tags are.

_Get a new toy. You can play with Victor and Yuuri while I’m away._

The news of Otabek’s return to Almaty - only temporary, family matters - had dampened Yuri’s spirits considerably and put off their plans. Yuri had tried not to pout, but he wound up cuddling a bit too closely to Otabek as they watched skating clips, nestled a bit too desperately under Otabek’s chin, and Otabek wanted to take his mind off it.

Now Yuri stood surrounded by dildos and plugs and vibrators, stands of lube and costumes, paddles and switches and gags and regardless of Yuri’s acclimation to the internet’s vast arrays of erotic material he didn’t know what half these things were for and was admittedly overwhelmed.

And he was still upset Otabek was leaving.

Victor and Otabek were a few aisles away, Victor excitedly explaining the differences between water-based lube and the silicon and oil varieties. Otabek paid particular attention to the oils as Victor started waxing about the merits of post-coital massage. And pre-coital massage. Really anything was good for Victor. 

The trip to the store was supposed to be a way to brighten Yuri’s mood, find something to keep himself busy with while Otabek was gone, but he still found his mind swirling around the idea of Otabek leaving.

Yuri had his arms crossed, glaring at the displays in his discomfort. He wandered slowly, then abruptly turned a corner and garnered a cherry-red blush. His heart fluttered - possibly just to pump more blood to his rapidly inflating dick - and he shot a look over either shoulder to see if anyone had noticed. With a swallow, he stepped close to the display, like perhaps he could hide against it, and touched the beautiful tabby cat tail. 

“ _If that’s your thing, you should see our custom made sets_ ,” came a friendly voice, speaking in Russian.

Yuri jumped at the sound, twisting around to see an older woman with a keen, welcoming smile. She gestured him to follow and Yuri tiptoed after her to a glass display stand showcasing animal-esque costumes and toys. She unlocked it, withdrawing the paw gloves of a white cat set.

“ _The fur’s softer, and the gloves have acrylic nails and rubber pads - feel?_ ” she held out the gloves and Yuri touched the cloud-like white fur on the back of them, softer than silk, then pressed his thumb against the squishy pink pads on the fingertips and palm. There was a hidden latch on the inside, so the glove could be fastened on and locked, and a safety release.

“ _Try on the ears?_ ” the woman asked, and when Yuri didn’t object she brought them to his head, combing his hair until she found a sturdy angle and clipping them into place. 

“ _Can’t let you try this on, but give it a feel_ ,” she said, holding out the tail. This one was thicker, longer than the tabby tail, and reminded Yuri of his own cat - only white instead brown. At the base was a rigid plug, slick and hard without much give. 

Yuri glanced at himself in the mirror and turned bright red. 

“You look beautiful, _Kotënok_.”

Yuri jumped, turning to see the three of them watching him. He ducked his eyes, but didn’t take off the ears. 

“Otabek,” Victor said, with that trill to his tone that always meant trouble. “I’ve been meaning to ask you - do you have a petsitter for your kitten while you’re away?”

Otabek did not have a kitten. 

“Not yet,” Otabek said after a split second hesitation, catching Victor’s meaning.

“This one looks very needy,” Victor said, caressing Yuri’s cheek, using the pads of his fingers to scratch gently beneath Yuri’s chin. “Is it a boy or a girl?” 

Yuri growled softly, baring his teeth and hissing at Victor. 

“Feisty,” Victor mused. 

“We could watch your kitten, Otabek,” Yuuri joined the fun, rising up onto his toes with the offer. Otabek raised his eyebrow at Yuuri, then stepped forward and stroked the fur of Yuri’s ears. 

“He’s a handful,” Otabek said. “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain we can handle him,” Victor said. He gestured to the woman that they wanted to purchase the set, and he nodded to the muzzle gag as well. She gave him a playful wink as she collected the items, and Yuri looked rather let down to lose his ears. 

“Drop him off at our place before you leave tomorrow - say around 17:00? We’ll leave the door open. Yuuri and I will be back at 17:30, so you can make sure he’s ready for us,” Victor said. 

Otabek looked over at Yuri, but Yuri was an angry blushing mess, hands shoved into his pockets, all hot and bothered. 

“He’ll be there.”

Victor paid for the toys, the price of which made Yuri’s eyes bulge out, then handed the bag to him. Yuri grumbled about it, and Victor just pinched his ear. “The correct response is ‘thank you for indulging my fantasies, Victor’.” 

“He just wanted to pay for it so he could get more points on his card,” Yuuri whispered to make Yuri feel better. 

“We’ll leave you two to it,” Victor said when they exited the store, “and see you tomorrow. Just leave any instructions on the counter, Otabek.” 

Victor waved, and Yuri hugged his new toys on the ride back to Otabek’s, never quite losing the pink color in his cheeks.

— 

It was odd, being in Victor and Yuuri’s apartment without them. 

Yuri stripped down slowly, clumping his clothes into the top of the bag he’d brought. Victor and Yuuri had set out one of the tatami mats, piled with soft blankets, at the edge of the living room, and Yuri knelt there while Otabek took their play things out. He started with the ears, having practiced getting them to stay just right the previous night. In fact, they’d stayed on Yuri for nearly the entire evening, much to Otabek’s entertainment.

Then came the paws. Otabek locked them onto Yuri’s wrists, made Yuri test the safety release, and then locked them again. Yuri wiggled his fingers inside the gloves, the white fur luxurious, the claws anchored firmly at the end of each digit, and the rubbery finger and palm pads felt hyper-realistic. He practiced his purr, fingers kneading in the blankets, until Otabek caught him and Yuri made a soft noise of surprise and shame and ducked his head. 

“Is it too weird?” Yuri whispered.

Otabek's lips pursed. 

“You’ve never been ashamed of what you like before,” Otabek said. “Don’t start now.”

He pet between Yuri’s ears, hand sliding down his back to scratch the way he would to an actual cat. 

“It’s very attractive,” Otabek said. 

“Says the man who doesn’t feel attraction,” Yuri grumbled.

“I appreciate art when I see it,” Otabek retorted.

Yuri snorted. “Shove the art up my ass.” 

“Fine,” Otabek said, not missing a beat, “Get in position and I will”. 

There was already lube set beside the mat - bless Victor and Yuri - and Otabek took it and doused the plug. 

“I should be able to take it dry,” Yuri growled. 

“This will feel better,” Otabek said. “You’re going to have this in you for a long time. I want you to be comfortable.” 

And that sent Yuri blushing again. Otabek continued to spend time with Victor, soaking up whatever information he could, and he was getting increasingly adept at anticipating Yuri’s needs and desires. 

Yuri got onto his knees, turning his ass towards Otabek, and Otabek brushed the tip of the plug over his asshole. Otabek’s other hand rested over Yuri’s tail bone, bracing him. Yuri used the touch to help him relax and push back, opening his body for the intrusion. He was getting better at taking the toys - in no small part thanks to the plug he normally slept with whenever he was at Otabek’s. 

Otabek almost always put it inside of him before they went to sleep, usually but not always accompanied by an orgasm, either from making Yuri perform with the aneros or helping him with a hand job. In the mornings, Yuri would go to the bathroom, take out and wash the toy, wash himself, and jerk off. They’d tried using the toy in the mornings, but they were both too busy and focused on getting to the rink, and Yuri taking care of it himself had worked out best for both of them. 

The tip popped into Yuri and Otabek had an easy time sliding it the rest of the way, until it was fully seated in Yuri’s body. He liked watching the deformation of Yuri’s asshole - the way it stretched out until it was taut and thin, then wrinkled up again around the narrow neck before the flare. 

When it was solidly inside, Yuri rocked his hips, watching in fascination as the tail swiped back and forth behind him. It had a plush springiness to it, amplifying the motion from Yuri’s body. They hadn’t tried on the tail last night, and Yuri found himself elated by the realism of it. He gave a little hop on his hands and knees, and the tail flounced behind him. 

“Come here, tiger,” Otabek said, kneeling beside Yuri. He pulled Yuri’s body into his lap, holding him as he continued flicking his tail side to side. Yuri’s paws settled around Otabek’s neck, and he gazed down with an overjoyed grin. Otabek wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Yuri this happy. Aroused, yes. Angry, yes. Victorious, yes. But this was a strange, innocent sort of purity. 

Otabek kissed him, soft and slow, and Yuri’s happiness faded. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Yuri murmured, rubbing his cheek against Otabek’s.

“It won’t take long,” Otabek said. 

“Will you text every day?” 

“At least once.”

Yuri nodded, brushing the tip of his nose against Otabek’s. He snuggled with his boyfriend, oblivious to the fact that Otabek’s hand was drawing something else out of the toy bag. Yuri pulled back slightly when he felt the ribbon against his neck, and looked down with a blush as Otabek tied a loose collar around Yuri’s neck with it, finishing it off with a bow. He slid from under Yuri and tied the other end to the closet doorknob, tethering Yuri to the space of the tatami mat and a small circumference beyond it. 

The muzzle gag he set on the blankets. Yuri could put the ball of it in his mouth when Victor and Yuuri arrived, and they would fasten it. Victor had warned against the dangers of leaving Yuri alone while gagged. 

Otabek stood back, pulling out his phone. 

“Let me show you how you look,” he said, and Yuri was all too happy to show off, posed with a paw in the air and a playful smirk. 

Otabek flipped it around to show him, then deleted it after Yuri had turned almost solid red. 

“Wait,” Yuri said, paw going to the phone. He posed again, flicking his tail around him. “Waist up. To keep you company in Almaty.” Otabek raised his brow.

He held up the phone, but instead of just taking a picture of Yuri he sat on the blankets beside him. His arm went around Yuri’s shoulders and he pulled Yuri against him. Yuri laid a paw over his chest, then turned and delicately licked Otabek’s cheek as he snapped the picture. 

Otabek had on his typically stoic expression, but his eyes were soft in the way only Yuri could make them. Otabek took another picture after Yuri had broken his pose, a candid shot of his tiger looking at him with adoration. 

“Be good,” Otabek said, tucking his phone away. His thumb touched between Yuri’s eyes, then brushed down to the tip of Yuri’s nose.

“You too,” Yuri smiled. 

They shared one last kiss, lingering, and then Otabek slipped from the apartment.

— 

Victor and Yuuri found Yuri fast asleep on the tatami mat, curled up into a little naked ball, cheek resting on his arm, tail curled around him. It took everything in Yuuri’s power not to gasp and squeal at how adorable it was. 

And then that power ran out.

“Ah!” He let out a soft exclamation as he went to Yuri’s side, fingers combing through Yuri’s hair. “Such a cute little kitten.” 

Yuri shifted at the touch, eyes blinking open. He was fuzzy-eyed for only a moment before he relaxed with a smile, seeing Yuuri above him. His back arched towards Yuuri’s touch as it traced over his spine, and then Yuri was sitting up, purring. 

“Otabek didn’t tell us his kitten would be so adorable,” Yuuri smiled, lavishing attention on Yuri. “Look how beautiful you are!”

His hand came around Yuri’s ass and down to the tail, giving it a gentle tug and release to stir the plug inside. Yuri purred and nuzzled up to Yuuri, bopping the underside of Yuuri’s chin with his forehead before promptly trying to crawl into Yuuri’s lap. The weight almost toppled Yuuri, but he set a hand behind him to brace and let Yuri curl up in his lap, still actively purring. 

Yuri’s purr was like a soft growl, a roll of his tongue close to the back of his throat. It was so endearing Yuuri wanted to die, but instead he just wrapped both his arms around Yuri and squeezed him tight. 

“I’m so glad Otabek let us babysit his pet,” Yuuri said. 

Victor had gone to the table in the mean time, reading over the note from Otabek:

> _Tiger_
> 
> _Bed time: 21:00  
>  Wake up: 7:00_
> 
> _At least two orgasms a day: before bed, after waking  
>  Five meals a day: breakfast, pre-lunch, post-lunch, after work, supper_
> 
> _Restrictions: no public play, no new kinks, no touching himself without permission_  
>  _Safe words: the usual_  
>  _Safe action: X arms over chest_  
>  _Safe action (restrained): handkerchief drop_

Victor folded the note away, then settled on the couch. 

“Untie him and bring him here,” Victor said. 

Yuuri pulled the end of the bow at Yuri’s neck until the ribbon fell away, freeing him from the tether, and in the mean time Yuri remembered his muzzle. He took the ball into his mouth, and Yuuri grinned and fastened the straps behind his head, stroking the silky white fur and strumming the whiskers. The nose of the muzzle was made of the same soft rubbery material as the paw pads, also an adorable pink. 

“Comfortable, kitten?” Yuuri asked, running a finger under the binding to check. 

Yuri nodded, bumped his head against Yuuri’s cheek again. 

“Do you want to snuggle?” 

Yuuri walked to the couch, joining Victor with a happy sigh. He pat his lap as he leaned against Victor. “Come on, kitten.”

Victor had his laptop hooked up to the TV, streaming one of the American exhibitions. Yuri crawled from the tatami mat over to the couch, hopping up and then stretching his body again, paws reaching forward, ass pushing into the air. He felt both Victor and Yuuri’s eyes on him, but he ignored them completely, as cats were wont, and curled up beside Yuuri. 

When Victor reached over to pet him Yuri’s eyes narrowed and he let out a slow growl. 

Yuuri chuckled. “Looks like Otabek’s kitten isn’t so fond of you.”

“Who could resist my charms?!” Victor scoffed, offended, and went to ruffle Yuri’s hair. Yuri sat up, growl getting louder, and might have hissed if he weren’t gagged. As it was, he gave Victor’s hand a thwapping hit, pushing it aside. 

Victor yelped.

“Cats are very particular,” Yuuri said sagely as Victor shook his smarting hand. “You have to let them come to you, and only touch them where they want to be touched.”

Yuri glanced at Yuuri, and just to spite Victor turned and rubbed his cheek against Yuuri’s shoulder, then slid the side of his body against Yuuri. This gave Victor a faceful of his ass, and he made sure to wag his tail into Victor’s face as he passed. 

Yuuri laughed out loud, and even Victor chuckled, taking a quick nip of Yuri’s backside. He grabbed Yuri’s tail, giving it a tiny tug, and heard an ‘mmph!’ from Yuri through the gag. 

“I think I know exactly how this kitten would want to be touched,” Victor teased. “Shame.” 

He held out his hand, rolling his fingers thoughtfully, and then turned his attention to the TV. Yuri had curled up beside Yuuri again, enjoying Yuuri’s nails brushing over his back, but he gazed at Victor with interest. It was a few more minutes before Yuri finally gave in and crawled across Yuuri until he was in Victor’s lap. 

“Ah, look who came to play,” Victor teased. He put his hand under Yuri’s chin, holding him steady as he kissed the muzzle. Then his hand slid down to Yuri’s hip, curling between his legs. Yuri had been half-hard since they came home, but as Victor’s fingers got closer his cock gorged itself on blood, inflating against Victor’s palm. 

“Definitely a little tom cat,” Victor said. His hand moved to the tip of Yuri’s cock, playing with the velvety skin that was mostly peeled back. “Otabek says his kitten needs to come at least twice a day, before bed and in the morning.”

Victor fondled the head of Yuri’s cock, smirking. “If I just touch him like this, he won’t get enough to come, but I bet I can still drive him wild.” 

Yuri growled quietly, but was unable to put up too much of a fuss. Victor’s hand felt heavenly between his legs, even if it was just that focused pleasure at the head of his cock. Yuri eventually flopped down, lying across both their laps, and Victor continued to toy with him as Yuri became increasingly aroused. 

Victor pinched his foreskin, sliding it along the underside of his head, and Yuri straight out bucked into his hand against that pressure. He sat up, mrowling against the gag as he set his paws on Victor’s shoulders and butt his head against Victor’s cheek. The next noise through the gag was a pleading sort of mewl, a desperate little whimper.

“Looks like kitten wants to come,” Yuuri said, leaning against Victor and kissing the corner of Victor’s mouth. 

“Does he?” Victor teased, twisting to capture Yuuri’s mouth in his own. Yuri tried to nose between them but Victor scraped a nail across Yuri’s cock and Yuri squeaked backwards. 

Yuuri, not breaking the kiss, gazed at Yuri as he slid his tongue into Victor’s mouth, teeth touching together. Yuri’s eyes narrowed in want and need and jealousy and Yuuri just smirked at him. His hand joined Victor’s, only he captured Yuri’s hanging balls and rolled them in his palm, tugging lightly, drawing them away from his body and then releasing to tickle at the hairy, veiny skin.

Yuri groaned into the gag, then pawed at his face, swiping at the straps of the muzzle gag. 

“Do you want kisses, kitten?” Victor asked, touching the strap. Yuri nodded twice, cheeks flush behind the muzzle. “Should we let him, Yuuri?” Victor asked conspiratorially against Yuuri’s lips, sliding his tongue along the lower one. 

“Perhaps we should make him watch a little longer,” Yuuri moaned into Victor’s mouth. “You know how you love being watched.”

Victor groaned back, the pair pointedly ignoring Yuri as they fell into each other’s mouths, carelessly swapping saliva. Yuuri was like a drug, intoxicating Victor. There wasn’t any good way to explain the faint flavor that was purely Yuuri, but Victor chased it down with his tongue, sucked it off of Yuuri’s tongue, did everything in his power to taste more and swallow it down and keep it forever like a bee molesting a flower. 

But through it all they kept touching Yuri, and as angry as he wanted to be he just kept pushing against Victor’s hand, and then Yuuri’s, rocking between the two points of pleasure while he stared at the married couple making out like lovestruck teens in front of him. 

It was Victor who pulled back with a smirk, canting his head to look between Yuri’s legs. 

“About to come, aren’t you?” Victor asked Yuri. 

“I can feel it too,” Yuuri said, rolling Yuri’s balls in his palm. “So close.”

Yuri was breathing heavily through his nose, hips rocking, tail swishing behind him with the motion. 

The pair looked at each other, and at once dropped their hands away from Yuri. 

Yuri was _furious_. He let out a pained groaned, pawing at both of them, scraping the acrylic claws against their shirts. Then, too angry to beg, he flipped around, smacking them both with his tail, and hopped off the bed to trot on his hands and knees back to the tatami mat. 

With a pointed glare, he turned his back on them and brought his paws to his cock. 

“Ah ah!” Victor said, rising swiftly and going to the mat. He grabbed Yuri’s forearms, and in an impressively adept move yanked his arms behind his back. “Yuuri, grab that ribbon?” 

It took Yuuri less than ten seconds to pull the red box from under the bed and take out one of the handkerchiefs. He collected the ribbon from the closet door and handed them both off to Victor.

Victor tied the ribbon into thick cuffs around Yuuri’s wrist, pinning them behind his back, and then let the kitten go. 

Yuri pulled on the binding, trying to wiggle and yank his arms free, and Victor was actually pleased to see his knots holding up under duress. Yuuri would squirm in his bondage, occasionally, but they weren’t into faux noncon, and Yuuri had never tried to escape. 

“You remember how this works, kitten?” Yuuri asked, holding the handkerchief in front of Yuri and then pushing it into his paw. Yuri stopped struggling just long enough to hold onto it, then resumed his attempts to escape. He finally rolled over onto his stomach, humping against the blankets, but there simply wasn’t enough friction. 

“Oh kitten, don’t be pathetic,” Victor smiled, patting his ass before lifting him up off the tatami mat. He tucked Yuri into his arms, where Yuri continued to wiggle and squirm. “Shh shh shh.” He set Yuri down on his knees again and pulled out his phone, waving it in front of Yuri with a smirk. “What would your master say if he saw you like this?” 

That made Yuri pause, blush.

_Snap!_

Yuuri came behind Victor, looking at the image, and whistled. 

“Kit _ten_ ,” Yuuri sighed. 

Victor let Yuri see. His body was strained with pleasure, back arched, and the cock between his legs had a similar upward curve.

“Should I send it to your master?” Victor asked. Yuri’s rosy cheeks darkened. He flicked his head back and forth and Victor sighed. “As you wish.” He deleted the photo, then kissed Yuri’s forehead. “Are you cooled off a bit now?”

Yuri glanced down between his legs. He was still hard, but he was no longer right on the edge of orgasm. He nodded, lifting off his feet enough that he could shift his hips to set his tail in motion.

“Good,” Victor said. It was Yuri’s stomach that responded, growling against his abs. Victor set his palm on Yuri’s front, rubbing at the noise, and Yuri’s soft purr returned. “Hungry, hmm? I suppose we should feed you. Yuuri?” 

But Yuuri was already in the kitchen, shuffling in the pantry. 

In the twenty minutes it took to prepare dinner, Victor untied Yuri and brought him back to the couch, cuddling the little kitten while he watched the post-exhibition interviews. He kept his hands away from Yuri’s more sensitive areas, just petting his back and side for the duration, and Yuri seemed to enjoy the subtle fantasy of being a kitten just as much when it was non-sexual.

When dinner was ready Yuuri put two plates on the kitchen table. The third he set on the floor. 

“Come on, kitten,” Yuuri called. Victor smacked Yuri’s ass, getting him off the couch, and then grabbed a blanket to fold for Yuri’s knees. He plopped it down before the plate on the floor and Yuri knelt obediently. 

“Chin up,” Victor said, reaching for the muzzle straps. He pulled the gag out slowly, letting Yuri swallow the copious saliva that had accumulated on it. Victor used a wet cloth to wipe the inside of the muzzle, and Yuri’s mouth after he’d stretched out his jaw, then set it aside and sat for dinner. 

Yuuri had cut Yuri’s portions into bite sized chunks: chicken and fish, carrots and potatoes, all grilled and lightly spiced. It was simple, burgeoning on bland, but Yuri was too caught up in the fantasy of it to care about Yuuri’s cooking. He ate heartily once he figured out the best way to get the food into his mouth, and was done well before Yuuri or Victor. He sat with his paws in front of him, ears sticking up above the edge of the table. From time to time, Yuuri would lean over and give him a stroke, but it wasn’t long before Yuri was bored. 

Victor almost choked on his food as he felt Yuri’s claws on his inner thighs. 

Yuuri laughed around his own mouthful, watching Victor’s expression change.

“Cat got your tongue?” Yuuri smirked. 

“Oooh, very nice,” Victor applauded Yuuri’s English at the same time as he reached under the table. 

“Kitten wants dessert,” Victor mused. Yuri watched Victor shift and shuffle, heard the zip of his pants. 

Victor’s hand returned to the tabletop, grabbing his utensil, and he scooted farther forward on his chair before resuming his meal. Yuuri resisted the urge to look under the table and instead listened for the quiet suckling noises he assumed were taking place. Yuri was being terribly sneaky, however, and Victor was keeping his face remarkably impassive as he ate. It wasn’t until the end, when Victor pressed a white knuckled hand against the table and let out a tense, guttural breath, that Yuuri’s suspicions were confirmed. 

He heard the slick sound of Yuri’s swallow and smirked.

“Did you like your cream, kitten?” Yuuri asked.

Yuri popped out from under the table, returning to his blanket, and smacked his tongue in his mouth with a slow purr of satisfaction.

“You’re getting far too good at that,” Victor mumbled beneath his breath. “ _Blyad_.”

Yuuri had since finished his plate and gazed down at Yuri. 

“Do you think Otabek will mind if I play with his kitten?” Yuuri asked. 

“I think he expected us to play with his kitten,” Victor said. “And we still need to give him his evening orgasm.” 

“I shouldn’t have a problem with that,” Yuuri said. He didn’t have the stature to pick Yuri up easily, like Victor could, so he just touched Yuri’s cheek and pat his thigh. “Come, kitten.” 

Yuri was more than eager as he pranced after Yuuri, following him into the bed while Victor cleaned up dinner. Yuri was all over Yuuri, rubbing against him, purring, flicking his tail against Yuuri’s chest. 

“All right, all right, I’m hurrying,” Yuuri laughed, lifting his shirt up over his head and then shoving down his pants. Yuri sat in Yuuri’s lap before he could get off his underwear and started leaving little licks on Yuuri’s face while he purred, pushing Yuuri down onto the bed. 

Yuuri laughed, hooking his arms around Yuri’s waist, and gazed fondly up into Yuri’s eyes only to receive another faceful of kitten kisses. 

“Beautiful kitten…” Yuuri sighed. He grabbed Yuri’s tail, pulling it rhythmically. Yuri stilled, settling his body over Yuuri’s, and nipped at Yuuri’s neck, the almost invisible bump of his Adam’s apple, the rounded hill of his collar bone. Yuuri kept up the thrusting motion of the plug until the erection in his underwear was painful. Yuri was grinding against him, their cocks sliding together, separated only by the thin stretch of fabric, but Yuuri wanted more.

He sat up, pushing Yuri to the side so he could reach under the bed. As he was grabbing their wash box, Victor’s hand caught his wrist, lifted it and kissed the tender underside. 

“I’ve got it,” Victor smiled. He climbed up onto the bed behind Yuri and held his hip steady as he grabbed the base of the tail and pulled. Yuri yelped as the plug stretched him out, legs clamping shut, but Victor kept up a steady pressure and the tail finally popped free. 

Victor took it away to clean while Yuuri shoved his underwear down and ogled at Yuri’s ass. 

Yuri pounced. 

Yuuri fell back against the bed with a whumph and the next moment Yuri was trying to wiggle onto his cock. Without being able to use his hands Yuri kept having to readjust, and Yuuri chuckled as his cock slid and bent and stubbornly refused to get swallowed by Yuri’s hungry body. 

Finally Yuuri took pity and reached for his cock, holding the base steady so that Yuri could settle onto it. 

“Ffuu-” Yuri started, and only realized halfway through his moan that he’d broken character. He blushed and Yuuri smirked, arms wrapping around Yuri’s neck as he started to thrust. 

“Shh, kitten,” Yuuri soothed, groaning at the feel of Yuri’s body around his. “Mmm…”

Yuri drew his claws up Yuuri’s side, experimentally. Yuuri reacted exactly the way he wanted, moaning and bucking harder into him. 

“Yuri - kitten - ”

One hand moved to Yuri’s ass, locking Yuri into place so that he could thrust without distraction. “Mmm.” 

Victor had already spent himself, but that didn’t prevent him from stripping down and crawling onto the bed to watch. There was something stunning about the pair. They were near even in height now, a perfect duality of light and dark, yet their similarities were becoming even more striking. They both took turns expressing innocence and depravity: Yuri’s deep desire to be used, Yuuri’s eros side that was domineering and demanding and unassailable. And yet, the love between the two was clear in their interactions. When they played together Yuuri gave Yuri everything he needed, used him without shame, and Yuri was the perfect sub to draw out Yuuri’s more aggressive desires.

Of course, Victor also enjoyed the times that Yuri topped. 

Victor sighed, lazily touching himself. He wasn’t anywhere close to coming, didn’t even really want to, but there were few things more enjoyable than watching his husband enjoy himself. He cupped his half chub in his palm, thumb and forefinger idly rotating over the hidden head. 

The pair shifted positions, Yuuri taking Yuri from behind, on his knees.

“You getting sore yet, kitten?” Victor asked, and Yuri shook his head. “You just let me know and I’ll help finish Yuuri off.”

“Not before I make him come,” Yuuri said. “I’ll come when he does. His body always goes so tight.”

Victor leaned forward, reaching between them to feel Yuuri’s cock as it came out of Yuri. It had a slight coating of mucus, a thin gelatinous layer just from riding inside Yuri’s body, but the friction of Yuuri’s constant thrusts was drying it out rapidly. Victor took the lube, drizzling it down the crack of Yuri’s ass until it started to coat Yuuri’s cock and get pushed inside.

“Mmm,” Yuri purred his appreciation.

Yuuri pulled out of Yuri, starting to reposition him again, but Yuri slipped free, kneeling next to Yuuri, and nudged Yuuri over onto his back. With a questioning look Yuri rubbed his cheek on Yuuri’s thigh, then crawled over him and lowered his hips to Yuuri’s. 

“Do you want inside of me, kitten?” Yuuri asked.

Yuri nodded, rosy-cheeked and aroused and adorable.

“Do you want to come inside of me?” 

Another faint nod, a soft prod of Yuri’s cock against the cheek of Yuuri’s ass. 

Yuuri relaxed on the bed, canting his head to gaze at Victor.

“What do you think?” 

Victor sat up, coming over to the pair of them. He stole a chaste kiss from Yuri’s lips, then a longer one from his husband’s. 

“Let me get him ready for you,” Victor smirked, and slipped behind both of them, laying down with his head near Yuuri’s ass, his mouth open. 

Yuri moved his cock back, just enough to dip into Victor’s mouth. Victor had no reaction whatsoever as Yuri’s cock touched his soft palate. Yuri hoped he’d remember to ask Victor about that later, but at the moment all he could do was enjoy the heat and slick friction and texture of Victor’s tongue. When he was drenched, he lifted out of Victor’s mouth, scooting so he was close to Yuuri’s ass again. 

Unfortunately, the paws prevented him from reaching down and pushing himself in. 

He let out a frustrated growl before Victor was there, curling around Yuri from behind. 

“Let me help you, kitten,” Victor said. His fingers found their way between Yuri’s legs, forming a loose sling under Yuri’s length, and he guided it between Yuuri’s legs and up against his asshole. “There. Push in, kitten,” Victor said, pressing an encouraging kiss to Yuri’s shoulder blade. Yuri shivered, following the guidance of Victor’s fingers until he felt the caving flesh start to give way.

Yuri’s breath hitched as he sank inside, and he didn’t even move at first, just knelt behind Yuuri, shivering at the sensations. 

“Do you like the feel of him around you, kitten?” Victor murmured quietly in Yuri’s ear. Yuri nodded, reaching back to touch Victor, but Victor caught his paw and kissed the back of it, crossing it over Yuri’s chest like a sweetheart hold. Yuri finally started to move, but it was the most delicate motion, as if he wanted to feel every cell of his skin as it dragged against Yuuri’s body.

“I don’t let many people inside my husband,” Victor murmured. “You’re very lucky, you know.” 

Yuri tilted his head back, nuzzling Victor, and Victor squeezed his paw in return, fingers laced between the soft, fur-covered digits.

“But there’s always been something between you two, hasn’t there? Since the moment you met at Hasetsu?” Victor asked. 

Yuri let out a soft gasp, a mewl. 

“Remember when you tried to teach him in secret? For all that you pretended to hate him, you cared about him even then,” Victor said. Yuri sank back into Yuuri’s body, gazing down at his Japanese rival, with his rosy cheeks and pretty blue glasses and cherishing brown eyes.

“There’s something about a person who can challenge you, make you rise to any occasion, who can activate your deepest abilities and show you things you thought were impossible,” Victor murmured. 

Yuri still thrust, but his cock had taken a back seat to his eyes as far as pleasure was concerned. Yuuri could hear everything that Victor was saying, too, and the two Yuris had locked eyes, gaze trembling with the weight of Victor’s words and all they felt for one another.

It was true, of course. All of it.

“He pushed you to your first gold,” Victor murmured, and Yuri thrust. “You pushed him to the quads that broke my record.”

Yuri’s paw squeezed Victor’s hand, emotion and arousal both so strong inside of him. 

He opened his mouth to say something, remembered he was just a kitten for the moment. 

“And there must have been a reason you came to us, hm?” Victor asked. “You could have just gone on the internet, played with yourself, practiced.”

Yuri couldn’t imagine how different his life would be right now if he hadn’t been welcomed into Victor and Yuuri’s world. 

“But you came to us,” Victor murmured. “You asked me to train you, and Yuuri was right there to push you farther. Just like Hasetsu all over again.”

Yuri’s free hand, free paw, came to rest on Yuuri’s chest, feeling the inhale and exhale of Yuuri’s breath.

“So enjoy him,” Victor whispered. “Take care of him. Make him come.” 

Yuri’s hand curled, kneading at Yuuri’s skin, and he experimentally grazed his claws over Yuuri’s chest, making sure one caught on his nipple. Yuuri’s whole body jounced at the touch, tightening deliciously around Yuri, and Yuri’s face split into a satisfied smirk. 

“Still finding new things about his body, hmm?” Victor asked. “Try licking them, nibbling them.” 

Yuri bent over Yuuri, resuming the thrusts that had paused while he watched Yuuri react. Yuri curved over Yuuri’s body, until he could lave his tongue over Yuuri’s left nipple. Yuuri threw his head back, one hand tangling into Yuri’s hair like he wanted to strangle it.

“ _Yuri_ ,” Yuuri moaned, and he didn’t even bother correcting himself. 

Yuri was stunned as Yuuri’s legs came up around his hips. They’d been splayed open in offering but this was the first time Yuuri had hooked them around Yuri, the first time he’d used his quads to lock Yuri against his body and beg for more. 

Yuri thrust harder, using that angle (he hoped) that would hit against Yuuri’s prostate while at the same time prevent Yuri from going over the edge too quickly. This was the first time someone had needed his cock so badly, and it filled him with a strange sort of masculine pride. He wanted to last for Yuuri.

Take care of Yuuri.

He blushed and growled and dragged his teeth over Yuuri’s nipple, eliciting another loud moan and a lovely arch to Yuuri’s spine that ground the stones of their abs together.

“Bite them,” Victor encouraged, “gently.” 

But Yuri didn’t need encouragement. He could feel Yuuri’s cock against his stomach, sticky and rock hard. He already had his goal, and like always, Yuuri was pushing him to get there.

Yuri switched to Yuuri’s other nipple, but kept a claw pressing into the first, the acrylic scraping the sensitive, beaded skin. He opened his mouth, two half moons of teeth on either side of Yuuri’s nipple, then slowly brought them together, getting as much of the areola in his mouth as he could and suckling on it as he bit. 

Whatever word came out of Yuuri’s mouth wasn’t English, wasn’t comprehensible, but it was _loud_ , almost screamed, and as Yuri hit that place inside of Yuuri the stickiness between them suddenly erupted. He felt hot spurts of cum jetting against his abs, smeared into their skin as Yuri kept thrusting through Yuuri’s orgasmic shudders.

Pulling him closer. Pushing him farther. Getting him to his limit again.

Yuri cried out as he came, ass taut, and he could hardly keep thrusting for how tightly Yuuri’s legs were locked around him.

Eventually their heady gyrations slowed, stopped, and Yuri let his weight fall onto Yuri, collapsed over him and panting. Yuuri chuckled breathlessly, and Yuri realized the fluff of his ears was in Yuuri’s face. He twisted his head, growling beneath his breath, but it faded into a purr and then the softest, contented sigh.

Victor still knelt beside them, rubbing Yuri’s back, bringing him down. It took a minute before Yuuri’s legs unfurled, falling from around Yuri’s waist. Victor brought his hand to Yuri’s hips and carefully pulled him out of Yuuri before the stickiness dried and made their separation painful. Yuri flopped onto his back beside Yuuri, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, matching smears of Yuuri’s cum on their upper abdomens.

Yuuri glanced lazily over at Yuri, found that Yuri was already looking at him with glossy-eyed, post sex adoration. Their lips met, sharing tender kisses in the afterglow.

Somehow Victor had a warm, damp washcloth (when had he disappeared? Was Yuri that out of it?) which he used to wipe both their asses and cocks free of lube and pre cum. He stroked their cocks clean, peeling back foreskin to ensure everything was clear, then tossed the cloth into the wash box and bent over them both. 

He started to clean the cum with his tongue, starting on Yuuri. He lapped up the drying, flaking stuff, swirled his tongue into the still wet puddles, and used his teeth to lightly scrape at the stickiest patches until he’d cleared everything away. Then he switched over to Yuri, whose body still twitched and shivered in its sensitivity as Victor’s tongue tickled his stomach.

A final wipe down with a paper towel when they were clean enough to rest.

“Did you enjoy that, kitten?” Victor asked. “Yuuri?”

They both turned to look at him, twin expressions of contentment. Yuri purred and Yuuri gave a quick nod. 

“Good,” Victor smiled. “We should take off your paws and ears, kitten, so you can sleep.”

Yuri mewled in disappointment but held out his hands anyway. As Victor undid the latches Yuuri gently untangled the clips from Yuri’s hair, taking off his ears. 

“There we go,” Victor said. “We’ll dress you up again after practice tomorrow, OK?” 

The costume was set aside, and then Victor started to pull the sheet up over the pair. 

“Wait,” Yuri said. He blushed.

“What is it, Yuri?” Victor asked.

Yuri was reddening by the moment. He glanced back over his shoulder and muttered. “… I’m empty.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Victor grinned. “Otabek’s been keeping you plugged at night. Go to the bathroom and I’ll find one for you,” Victor said, already leaning over the edge of the bed. As Yuri disappeared, Victor pulled out one of the blue boxes. He shuffled around and then came up with a simple plug, roughly the size of the fancy one Yuri normally wore, only a plain black with subtle ridging. When Yuri returned to the bed, Victor held it up: “How’s this?”

Yuri nodded his approval and Victor offered it to him. 

Yuri looked at it in Victor’s outstretched hand, then blushed even deeper. 

“… Otabek normally puts it in me,” Yuri murmured.

“Oh kitten,” Victor sighed, but it was said fondly. “Your master really is spoiling you, isn’t he? Come here.” 

Yuri snuggled up to Victor. After he’d glazed the plug in lube, Victor wrapped a steadying arm around Yuri’s waist, holding him still. Yuri buried his face in Victor’s neck and spread his thighs open. The chill feel of the lube made Yuri twitch, but then he pushed back towards the pressure and felt his body widen. The plug stretched him out, giving him that sensation of fullness that had become a craving. When he felt the little flare at the end against his cheeks he sighed in gratitude, planting a tiny kiss on Victor’s neck. 

“Thankyousir,” Yuri whispered, so quickly Victor couldn’t be sure what he heard. 

Victor laid Yuri down again beside Yuuri, watched the pair tangle up together, and Victor took up a position behind Yuuri, spooning around him. It wouldn’t last. They’d get too hot and Yuuri would kick off the covers, or Victor would start snoring and Yuri would hide his head under a pillow, or they’d all just get stiff with their athletic bodies and shift and jostle until they were a sprawled nest of human limbs. 

But for now the three of them curled together, warm and flush and loved, and slept.


	14. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 800 kudos?!?!
> 
> EIGHT HUNDRED?!?!?! (70k words, 20k hits??? THIS IS NUTS!)
> 
> Jeezums y'all. Just jeezums. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Yuri's... Yuri's very special;; Are any of you here for the Otayuri? Anyone?

Yuri bounced on his heels, lip between his teeth, staring at the crowd flowing through the gateway. 

“Where _is_ he?!” Yuri growled, and Victor set a hand on his shoulder. 

“His flight was scheduled to land ten minutes ago; there’s no way he could have gone through customs that quickly. Be patient,” Victor said. But Yuri shoved Victor’s hand off his shoulder and stalked through the crowd, pushing his way to the forefront, up against the banister delineating arrivals from their greeters.

 _You here?_ he texted Otabek.

 _Deplaning_.

_Hurry up! :P_

Otabek didn’t text back. He rarely responded to more than one of Yuri’s texts at a time, a habit that drove Yuri crazy. Their chat history was 90% Yuri trying not to appear excited and obsessed with Otabek and 10% Otabek communicating as succinctly and unemotionally as humanly possible. It wasn’t intentional. Otabek had simply said “I don’t like texting” and left it at that. 

It was another half an hour of nervous pacing and raging before Yuri’s whole world ground to a halt. He saw Otabek and felt the joy of it like champagne bubbles in his stomach. 

“Ota!” He called, waving, but Otabek had already seen him. 

Yuri had made a point to be seeable. 

He was getting better at dolling himself up, had even started braiding his own hair (much to his distress, it still wasn’t passable). He looked beautiful. Not the classical sort of beautiful that people would tacitly appreciate when they saw. The sort of beautiful that demanded to be seen. 

Yuri was a head-turner, and he relished it. 

None of that was top of his mind, however, as Otabek walked up to him. 

“Yuri,” Otabek said, and he held out the arm that wasn’t dragging his suitcase. That was the moment Yuri had been waiting for, the permission for him to leap forward, capturing his boyfriend in a tight embrace. 

They never kissed in public, but it was an airport - everyone was hugging - and no one would be any wiser, unless they saw the puppy love in Yuri’s eyes.

Otabek’s arm curled around Yuri, almost scooping him into the embrace, and after a lingering connection Otabek’s hand splayed out on the small of Yuri’s back. 

“Home?” Otabek asked, and Yuri sank against that touch, let it lead him back towards where Victor and Yuuri waited. 

“Home,” Yuri agreed.

— 

Victor drove them back towards Otabek’s apartment. The first thing Yuri did in the privacy of the car was press a kiss to Otabek’s cheek, before Otabek turned and kissed him properly. In the front seats, Victor and Yuuri shared a knowing grin, and kept their mouths shut until the couple had had their moment of private reunion.

When their mouths were free again, Victor and Yuuri asked after Otabek’s trip, and his family, and followed it up with a few playful stories of Yuri’s time playing kitten. It had only been four days, but it felt like far longer, and Yuri had been too busy with preparation for a local exhibition to play more than that first night. Otabek seemed amused, satisfied that Yuri was satisfied, but then the conversation petered. Yuri just leaned against Otabek in the back seat, curling up and lacing their fingers together until they arrived at Otabek’s apartment.

Yuri got out and helped Otabek grab his bag, then stood bashfully beside the car door, waiting and hopeful. 

“Stay the night, Yuri?” Otabek finally asked, and the Russian teen danced into Otabek’s arms.

— 

“Did you miss me?” Yuri asked, naked save for his briefs, laying on his back with Otabek on his side next to him. Otabek’s hand drifted up and down Yuri’s chest, head propped up on the other, listening to Yuri talk. 

It was one of Otabek’s favorite activities. 

“Yes,” Otabek said. Yuri gazed up at him, that hopeful expression once more, and Otabek eventually relented and continued: “I was cold at night. I was used to your body heat.”

Yuri had his legs woven over Otabek’s, their bottom halves interlocking, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought. His hand came to Otabek’s hair, pinching a stray lock between his fingers and sliding them down it. 

“You didn’t suddenly realize you were dating a pervert and want to get out?” Yuri asked. 

Otabek raised his brow. “I could ask the same with you and my preferences.” 

“Or lack thereof,” Yuri teased, but it was always the gentlest of teases around that topic. “You’re perfect. I told you that already.”

“Even next to Victor and Yuuri?”

Yuri snickered: “Especially next to them.”

“But you love Yuuri.”

“I —“ Yuri stopped, sitting up to look at Otabek properly. Otabek in turn laid down on his back, then drew Yuri to curl up on his chest. 

Yuri blushed to himself, rubbing his cheek against Otabek’s pectoral, hand tracing Otabek’s collar bone and the bundle of muscle branching off his shoulder. 

“We haven’t been together long,” Yuri murmured. “I don’t want to say it because it feels…” He made a face. “It feels like if I say it too soon maybe you’ll think I don’t mean it, or I’m too young to know about any of it. But…” 

Yuri sighed, tapping his finger on Otabek’s skin. “It’s been a long time. …since Barcelona.”

Otabek was quiet, but there was an electric vibration of almost-spoken words, both realizing they were on the verge of confession and both teetering, wondering which way Yuri would fall. Otabek cradled Yuri, arm across his lower back, cupping his hip. He was blissfully aware of every point of contact between them and the energy buzzing in the gaps.

“I thought maybe that was just what friendship felt like,” Yuri continued. “I didn’t have many friends. It wasn’t until I got closer to Victor and Yuuri that I realized… how different it was, what I felt towards you.” He rolled his shoulders. “So maybe I do love Yuuri, but it’s still nothing - it’s _nothing_ compared to what I feel for you.”

His cheeks flushed and Otabek touched his thumb between Yuri’s eyes, brushing it slowly down the crest of Yuri’s nose until it reached the squishy cartilage tip. He tapped it there. 

“Yuri,” Otabek said. 

Yuri sat up, sliding his hair back behind his ear, breath caught in his throat. “Yes?” Hopeful, quiet. 

Otabek’s lips moved, like he was about to speak, but instead he just brought his hands to Yuri’s cheeks. Cupping them, he drew Yuri back down, kissing all the unsaid words into Yuri’s skin.

— 

Otabek’s alarm was an obnoxious screeching thing that always made Yuri panic before worming his way under Otabek’s arm to hide. 

“Don’t want to,” Yuri grumbled, latching a leg around Otabek’s waist as he felt Otabek start to rise. Unlike Yuri, who snoozed his alarm again and again, Otabek got up instantly, every time, and set immediately to his morning routine. 

He untangled himself from Yuri’s clingy, leeching trap of limbs, subduing him with a kiss.

“Otchka,” Yuri whined, but Otabek just pet his nose and Yuri was pacified, pouting back beneath the sheets to try and sleep. 

It didn’t last very long. Yuri’s need to pee overwhelmed his sleepiness, and with a groan he got up and knocked on the bathroom door to no avail. 

“Ota?” He asked, cracking it, peering in.

Otabek’s head appeared from behind the curtain, and Yuri’s morning erection, a half-awake thing, was roused in an instant. He blushed as he stammered: “I needed to —“ He gestured to the toilet. 

“Just don’t flush,” Otabek said, and disappeared behind the curtain without comment. 

When Yuri was finished he hovered in the bathroom.

“Ota? Can I come in?” Yuri asked. 

Otabek cracked the curtain in reply. Yuri grinned, tossing his briefs away, and hopped into the shower.

“Ai! Cold! COLD!” Yuri squeaked as soon as the water hit him, shrieking. Otabek glanced at Yuri, that white flash in his eye signaling his amusement. 

“Wakes you up,” Otabek said, but then Yuri was shivering up against him, hiding from the water behind the shield of Otabek’s body.

“Th-this is torture!” Yuri cried. 

Otabek let out a faster-than-normal breath, which was as close as he usually came to laughing. His arm wrapped around Yuri’s waist, other hand grabbing the soaped scrub, and he started on Yuri’s body. Admittedly, the temperature mattered far less to Yuri when he was paying attention to Otabek’s ministrations. Otabek scrubbed hard, and that combined with the cool water made Yuri’s normally pale skin get a rosy sheen. When Otabek reached Yuri’s back he sighed at the feeling, arching into the rough, scratchy surface of the scrub.

Otabek squatted to get Yuri’s lower half, lifting up Yuri’s foot and watching as Yuri gasped and writhed from the ticklish sensation. He worked back up each leg until he came to the crux. Otabek scrubbed cock and balls just the same as he had elbow and pectoral, treating them no differently than the rest of Yuri’s body. It was only when the flesh twitched alive that Otabek seemed to notice.

“Longer than yours,” Yuri grinned. “Isn’t it?” 

After he’d said it Yuri cringed at his own immaturity. Where had _that_ come from? But Otabek took the comment in stride. He cupped his own cock, the cut foreskin deceiving, making Otabek look aroused when really there was just no skin to hide inside. 

Otabek tightened a ring of fingers around the base, much to Yuri’s surprise, and his cock did fatten up a bit, elongating for a brief moment but never approaching a full erection.

“Not a fair comparison,” Otabek shrugged when there was no further change. He dropped his junk, pulling Yuri into the spray proper to rinse off. 

“Your turn?” Yuri asked, holding up the scrub. 

Otabek eyed him.

“I don’t have to wash there,” Yuri said. “I could just do your back if you want?” 

Still hesitant, Otabek turned, glancing over his shoulder at Yuri. Yuri propped himself on his toes, rubbing firm circles across Otabek’s back. When he held the scrub out again, Otabek just gestured to the rest of his body. “Keep going.” 

“You sure?” 

“Just washing.”

“Promise,” Yuri agreed, and the scrub passed over Otabek’s backside, to his thighs, and he even widened his stance for Yuri. Yuri knelt, swallowing, forcing himself to stay focused. 

It was more difficult on the front, but Yuri managed to hold his lover’s cock for the first time for only a few seconds of platonic cleaning. He moved on quickly, and the whole time was watching Otabek’s body language and making sure he didn’t tense up. 

“Was that OK?” Yuri asked as he finished. 

“A bit slow,” Otabek said, deadpan, and it took Yuri a long several seconds while Otabek rinsed to realize he was teasing.

“You really feel nothing?” Yuri asked as he shampooed his hair. “When I touch you?”

“I worry. I thought you would want more,” Otabek said. 

Yuri frowned, then remembered what Victor had said about being responsible for his emotions. It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t Yuri’s fault. “It was exciting but… I don’t want anything more than what you're comfortable with.” 

Ugh. Yuri groaned at how … how _Victor_ that sounded. All coddling and expressive. He growled to himself, glaring at the shower drain, it being the nearest applicable object to despise. 

“That’s why I let you do it,” Otabek said. “I trust you.”

And then Yuri was nothing but a blush. 

— 

Otabek found Yuuri in the lockers again after practice, though Yuuri was fully dressed and Otabek’s hands stayed at his sides. 

“Tonight,” Otabek said, “I want to try it.”

“Our place or…?” 

“Mine. You know the address now.” 

“Okay,” Yuuri said. “I talked to Victor about it. He’s fine as long as he can be there, too, and we can still use red and yellow.”

Safe words were one of the very first things Victor had taught Otabek, implicit in any situation. Otabek gestured his assent, the obviousness of their inclusion.

“And I don’t like pretending to force something,” Yuuri said. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Neither do I,” Otabek said. “I just want to use your body like it was my own.”

That phrasing sent a shiver through Yuuri. He found himself stepping closer to Otabek, and Otabek without prompting dropped his hand between Yuuri’s legs again, cupping him, holding him.

“It’s yours,” Yuuri said, stiffening into Otabek’s touch. The rest of him was stock still but his arousal grew against Otabek’s palm until Yuuri was fully hard. Otabek squeezed.

“19:00?”

“Hai.”

—

Four skaters relaxed in Otabek’s apartment, wine warming their bellies. Victor was perched on one of the kitchen stools, fingers caressing the stem of his wine glass as he gazed pleasantly towards the couch.

Otabek was there, holding Yuuri under one arm, Yuri under the other. Yuri had been fussy with Otabek and Yuuri at first, jealous when he saw Otabek - with familiarity - fondle Yuuri as they came into the apartment. Yuri had given a huff and a hiss, sliding between the two, blocking Yuuri with his back and glaring at him over his shoulder. 

“Don’t be jealous,” Otabek had soothed, rubbing Yuri’s back until his cat-arch subsided. “He’s going to help me give something to you tonight.”

 _That_ had made Yuri’s expression go from jealousy to intrigue almost instantly. 

After, Yuri had been willing to share Otabek: begrudgingly at first, but as they settled on the couch together and Otabek started to touch Yuuri’s hair Yuri got more into the idea. He crawled into his master’s lap and purred to Yuuri, nosing him. 

“He’s different than Victor, isn’t he? He’s stronger. Like a mountain,” Yuri said. It was almost like show and tell. He grabbed Yuuri’s hand and put it on Otabek’s chest, growling. “Victor is softer, like marble, but Otabek is granite.” 

Yuri said it with such pride, too, showcasing his lover to Yuuri, that Yuuri had to blush and smile. He glanced up at Otabek and was surprised to see Otabek’s full attention on him.

Tentative wasn’t quite the word for Otabek’s exploration - more reserved, touching Yuuri with confidence but staying localized: his hair, his shoulders and upper back, his thighs. Still, just being touched by Otabek was erotic. Something about that stoic monolith finally expressing physicality stirred Yuuri to his core.

“What does he taste like?” Yuuri asked.

Yuri licked his lips at the question. What _did_ Otabek taste like? 

Yuri looked beseechingly at his lover and Otabek turned to Yuri, giving him a heady sort of kiss, mouth opening. 

“Steadiness,” Yuri said when he pulled back. He turned to Yuuri, kissed him and let Yuuri into his mouth, tasting the vestiges of Otabek. Yuuri sighed against Yuri’s lips. 

“It’s good,” Yuuri smiled. 

“Not sweet like Victor,” Yuri said. 

“Only after dessert,” Victor chimed. 

Yuri looked back at him, hissing. 

Yuuri found himself laughing softly, then chirped as Otabek’s hand dipped between his legs again. 

“Let’s go,” Otabek said. “To the bed, both of you.”

Yuri leapt in that direction, and after a glance to Victor, earning his supportive nod, Yuuri followed.

Yuuri knelt on the bed, looking to Otabek, and Victor had to bite his tongue not to comment on how erotic it all was, both boys gazing at Otabek with such dedication and focus. Under the spotlight of their eyes, Otabek lifted his shirt up and off. It was the first time he’d offered his skin to the group, and seeing it voluntarily, in the context of the bedroom, was far different than the incidental glimpses in the lockers. 

“Clothes off,” Otabek said, pointing to Yuuri. 

He crawled onto the bed at the same time, coming up behind Yuri and blanketing the smaller body with his own. 

“Otchka,” Yuri murmured, head tilting towards Otabek while he kept one eye on Yuuri. Yuuri wasn’t putting on a show of his stripping, but he was certainly taking his time and enjoying the sensuality of it. He touched himself as he took off his pants, fingers gliding down his thighs, and he made a slow reveal of his nudity as he peeled off his briefs and tossed them off the edge of the bed.

“Close your eyes,” Otabek said, lips near Yuri’s ear. Yuri relaxed against the column of Otabek’s body, taking one last look over his shoulder at his lover before his eyes fell shut.

The cloth that came over them was soft and silken, touching Yuri’s cheeks and the ridge of his brow, with only a thin bridge over his nose so that it could cover his sight completely. No crack of light escaped when Yuri opened his eyes. He was enveloped in darkness. 

Yuri felt a soft jerk as Otabek tightened the blindfold into place and found himself leaning more heavily against the pillar of solidity that was Otabek. He wasn’t frightened, but he was certainly feeling that shy vulnerability he’d felt with his cat ears on, or when he’d been filled with warm water to the point of bursting. 

Otabek’s thumb touched between Yuri’s eyes, then dragged down his nose, and Yuri smiled at that familiar, soothing gesture. 

“OK?” Otabek asked, and Yuri nodded. Where Victor might have been checking in in more detail, making sure he felt safe, asking if the blindfold wasn’t tight, Otabek spoke only through his fingertips. They told little secrets on his cheeks, along the curve of his jaw, beneath the tender cartilage of his ear. The bed shifted, and Otabek and Yuuri moved until they were close enough together that Yuri no longer knew which depression in the bed was which. The entire time, Otabek’s hand never left Yuri’s body. Otabek was probably in front of him, based on the angle, the weight, and Yuri was near certain it was still Otabek’s hands after they’d lifted Yuri’s shirt up and off. 

“Imagine it’s our first time together,” Otabek said, his voice hushed and intimate near his ear, designed only for Yuri. Yuri’s flesh leapt. Otabek’s constant touch wound its way down to Yuri’s wrist, pulling Yuri’s palm to his chest. “Feel my heartbeat?” 

It shouldn’t have been physically possible, but the suggestion of it was enough to make Yuri swear he really did. His fingers splayed out over Otabek’s pectoral, feeling a vibration in addition to the steady rise and fall of Otabek’s breath. 

“Do you want to feel more?” Otabek asked. 

Yuri found himself nodding, and the hand at his wrist guided his fingers down, over Otabek’s taut, muscular chest, rounding the knots of his abdomen.

His fingertips brushed denim. 

“Let me take those off,” Otabek said. 

There was shifting, the sound of a zip, and then Otabek moved Yuri’s hand again.

The velvet-covered steel of cock flesh made Yuri gasp. He knew it wasn’t Otabek - couldn’t be Otabek, could it? 

…But what if it was?

He would know the shape of Yuuri’s cock, wouldn’t he? Did it feel like that? Or was it closer to the glimpse he’d had in the shower? Yuri touched like it was his very first time, not even attempting to be erotic about it. He wasn’t stroking or caressing, he was navigating, mapping, memorizing.

He reached the head, felt the squishy tip and the skin around it. It was a very hard cock, but there was still a bit of give in the skin around the head. What did a cut cock feel like when it was this erect? Yuri hadn’t even really gotten a chance to stroke Otabek’s properly in the shower. 

It took him a minute to decide two things: he didn’t know whose cock he was touching, and he didn’t care. He was going to pretend it was Otabek’s.

Ever so tentatively, the cock started to push towards Yuri’s hand, and Otabek brought his fingers closer. 

“Touch me,” Otabek encouraged.

His voice was coming from _right there_ , right where it should have, and Yuri let himself get entranced with the idea that it _was_ Otabek, and he _was_ touching him.

Yuri moved his face towards the sound of Otabek’s voice, lips parted, and was rewarded with Otabek’s sturdy kiss. _That_ he could easily tell was his lover. The feel of his mouth, the unique scent and taste. He uttered a brief moan and his hand picked up speed between Otabek’s legs, grabbing his cock and pulling on it, starting to stroke in earnest.

Because if this _was_ Otabek, he finally wanted to show off all of his talents. 

“Otchka,” Yuri started, speaking against Otabek’s lips. “I trained for you. I worked so hard. I want to make you feel incredible.”

“I know,” Otabek said, and he made a noise Yuri had never heard as his fingers slicked down that stiff skin. It was a groan of pleasure, a stressed exhale, vocal cords just barely vibrating. Otabek’s hand was still on Yuri’s wrist, a loose cage of fingers that wasn’t impeding his movements, merely holding - just in case. 

Just in case Yuri reached too far and broke the illusion — and oh, how desperately he wanted to know.

Far from the moment, sitting silently on the couch with his second glass of wine, Victor decided he had the best vantage point of them all. He could see behind the scenes as Otabek worked his magic, and the tent of his pants was testament to its effectiveness. 

Otabek knelt on the bed, Yuuri naked in his lap. One of Otabek’s hands was wrapped under Yuuri’s arm and then rose up to lock over Yuuri’s mouth, silencing any noise Yuuri might make in response to Yuri’s fingers on his cock. Yuuri was arched backwards, leaning to the left so that Otabek’s upper body could be far enough forward to seem realistic in relation to his cock.

The position was a tense one for both Yuuri and Otabek, but Yuuri was obedient, silent, savoring not only Yuri’s hand on his cock but also, Victor knew, Otabek’s strong restraint. 

“Will you take me, Otchka?” Yuri asked, breaking through the white noise of fingers on flesh. He was in a world that was only touch and sound and taste, oblivious to the effort to maintain it. “You’re ready. I’m ready. I want to feel you.”

“Let me enjoy this first,” Otabek said, and somehow his breath sounded shorter, like he was exerting himself. “Let me enjoy you.” 

A hand between Yuri’s legs, pulling his zipper down. 

Otabek’s hand; he knew those rough fingertips anywhere. Yuuri’s felt like flower petals, all smooth and pliable. Yuri bucked without thinking towards the touch, and far from pulling away, it actually encouraged the hand fishing into his underwear and groping him.

When Otabek pushed him backwards, Yuri carefully reclined onto the bed, legs bent loosely and spread. Otabek pulled the remainder of Yuri’s clothes down and off, until Yuri was naked on the sheets, cheeks red beneath the blindfold. He felt Otabek’s hands at his ankles, lifting his legs up, folding Yuri in half until he could press the soles of his feet to his head like earmuffs if he desired. 

Given Yuri’s flexibility, it was hardly a stretch at all.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Otabek asked. The hand dropped from Yuri’s ankles, touched his throat, skid down the gully between his pectorals and over the slope where ribcage gave way to stomach. Then, without warning, it lifted away, and the loss felt like ice. 

It was gone for less than a second. Yuri felt heat between the cheeks of his ass, fingers so doused in lube he couldn’t be sure whose they were. 

“I can take you dry!” Yuri chirped quickly. “Please - please, let me show you, Otchka. Let me show you.”

Yuri pawed the air and found Otabek’s body above him, where he expected it to be. He could feel the heat radiating off of Otabek, his own personal tanning bulb. Yuri caressed Otabek’s chest, begging again, just a whisper: “Please let me show you.” Finally, the hand between his legs disappeared, only a faint brush of lube chilling as the departing digits swirled the air in their wake.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Otabek said, guiding them there as Yuri complied. Otabek lifted Yuri’s hips, tucking a pillow beneath him to elevate his ass. “I’m going to go very slowly.”

“I’m ready; I want to give this to you,” Yuri whispered. “I want to be your first.”

“You are.”

Those last two words were spoken right near Yuri’s ear, and somehow invisibly timed with the pressure of a cock between Yuri’s cheeks. He opened his body immediately, as though there was nothing more in the world he wanted than to envelop his lover within him. 

“Otchka,” Yuri mewled, voice hitching. His arms tightened around Otabeks’ neck, face burrowing into Otabek’s shoulder as much as he could with his legs in the way. 

Yuri was lost in the fantasy now, imagining Otabek’s bare body curled over him. The cock sunk deep into his body, and - as he’d been trained - he accepted all of it with ease. 

“Well?” Otabek asked, when Yuri felt hips flush against the cheeks of his ass.

“Perfect,” Yuri said, almost automatically, unable to think of a better way to describe the sensation. “It’s perfect. Please.”

Yuri lowered his voice, soft enough that only Otabek could hear. “How do I feel?”

Silence answered, and Yuri wondered if perhaps he’d spoken too quietly, but then, as the cock started to pull out again, Otabek murmured: “Like love.” 

Yuri’s breath caught in his throat, and his body tightened around the invading length, stopping it in its tracks until he loosened up again. 

“Do you feel it?” Otabek asked.

“Yes,” Yuri gasped. “Otchka I —”

But he couldn’t say it, because Otabek’s lips were pressing against his, and Otabek was taking one of Yuri’s hands and bringing it to his thigh, letting him feel the tension in his quads as he thrust. The skin was _bare_ , like Otabek really had taken off his pants, really was pressing into him, and Yuri was too overwhelmed to even curse the blindfold for not letting him know either way. 

He shivered, ankles at Otabek’s shoulders, the sides of his feet getting tickled by Otabek’s hair. 

The friction from lubeless sex decreased by the moment; Yuri’s muscle relaxed, the natural coating inside rubbed off on the cock invading him. Yuri’s body pulsed and shivered, so accustomed by now to receiving this kind of attention and yet this time felt entirely new. He wanted to lay beneath Otabek for hours, paying attention to all the nuance, the depth of it, the girth, the pace. But it was more than that, this time, more than the physicality. There was such complete care in these thrusts, such a blind, indescribable amount of emotion. 

All for him.

Otabek had done all of this for him.

And then Yuri couldn’t take it anymore. 

He reached up, one hand pushing Otabek back a hand’s breadth, the other grabbing the blindfold and pulling it off. 

“I love you, Otabek,” Yuri said, eyes blinking rapidly in the sudden light, but open enough to see Otabek’s expression. He couldn’t register anything beyond that, didn’t even care, just gazed at the Kazakh above him with unfiltered adoration.

Otabek looked almost startled at first. He brushed the hair back from Yuri’s eyes. Green met black-brown, frozen, and finally those dark eyes softened: “Yuri… I love you too.”

A slow, tender kiss, and then he tucked Yuri’s sweet expression into the crook of his neck. “Now close your eyes and let me make love to you.”

For once, the words felt entirely appropriate.

“Yes, love,” Yuri whispered, so very softly.

The length inside him picked up its pace again. Otabek captured Yuri’s hand in his, lacing their fingers and pinning Yuri’s arm against the sheets. 

“Take me,” Yuri murmured against Otabek’s throat.

A strong thrust in response, not quite like Yuuri’s, not the consistent in and out that felt more like a waterwheel. This was closer to a hammer and an anvil: a slow lift and then a powerful downward plow. And it wasn’t even hitting his spot, the way Yuuri always did. 

Yuri pressed his face further into the crook of Otabek’s shoulder, too tempted to open his eyes again.

“Otchka,” he whimpered again. “Please.” 

Yuri wanted to come this way, wanted to come with Otabek over him, the image of Otabek’s body in his mind. It wasn’t quite hitting what he needed inside of him, so Yuri shifted his hips, tilting them to see if he could guide the cock inside. A few brief glances, a few brushes on his prostate - not enough. Yuri groaned, needing.

“Otchka, Otchka,” he whimpered. 

“Do you need more?” 

“Please,” Yuri begged. 

The thrusts grew harder, Otabek’s breath faster beside Yuri’s ear. Yuri pressed his face into Otabek’s hair, inhaled the scent of him and groaned at the feel of him and humped at the length in his body.

Something changed; the angle suddenly matched, and Yuri held onto Otabek like he might fly off the ride.

“I’m close, I’m close,” Yuri whispered. “Love me, please, Otchka, please.” 

“Yes. Yuri. _Love_.”

Those words were each punctuated by a thrust, slamming directly against Yuri’s prostate. 

But it was the emotion of them that sent Yuri over the edge. 

Yuri’s nails dug into Otabek’s shoulder, the laced hand squeezing Otabek’s until he was white knuckled. This orgasm felt different. It wasn’t the obliterative explosion of some of his prior times, when his entire body was a star collapsing in on itself. This time it felt like the first sun after winter, wave after wave of rolling heat pouring over him, a release of energy so benevolent and loving it was boundless.

The sensation carried him away, lost to time, pulsing and pulsing and then just breathing in his lover’s scent until he was surprised to feel Otabek’s touch between his eyes. 

He opened them as Otabek’s thumb trailed to his nose, blinking unsteadily. 

“Love,” Yuri said simply. 

Otabek and Yuuri were both there. Otabek was kneeling, naked except for a dance belt that blended into his skin and of course a bright white trail of Yuri’s come across his abdomen. Yuuri was completely flush, red faced and with a brick-ish hue between his legs, where his cock was glistening and softening. Even Victor was there, looking somewhat wine-sloshed but delighted.

Yuri blushed.

“Thank you,” he murmured to all of them.

Yuuri smiled, looking starstruck and dazed, and Otabek’s expression was one Yuri wanted to remember for all the ages, like they were seeing each other for the first time all over again. Yuri squeezed Otabek’s hand again, still panting beneath his breath, and finally let go to brush his hair back. 

Victor was Victor. He rose and grabbed tissues, bringing them to the side of the bed and holding them out to Otabek. Otabek glanced up, and perhaps it was what he’d just pulled off but he took the tissues from Victor and set them aside. 

“Kneel,” Otabek said.

Both Yuris froze at the word, suddenly laser-focused. Victor gazed at Otabek, eyes locking, expression pleasant but… something more.

Victor’s slightly slurred cyan took in the mostly naked Kazakh, while Otabek’s eyes retained their constant hardness.

After an endless moment, Victor lowered himself to his knees beside the bed. Otabek moved to the edge, one leg on either side of Victor. 

For a split second he saw it from outside himself, Victor Nikiforov on his knees by Otabek’s order, and then Otabek cupped the back of Victor’s head in his palm and brought it forward.

Victor glanced up at Otabek only briefly, then his eyes shot to Yuri. 

Yuri was so entranced he didn’t realize what Victor was waiting for, and when he did he could only nod numbly.

Victor’s tongue connected with Otabek’s abs, starting just above the broad elastic belt and modest triangle of cloth it supported. He licked away the first bit of white, eyes half-lidded. Otabek’s fingers sifted through Victor’s hair, holding him in place while he worked to clean Yuri’s mess. Otabek stayed perfectly still, no sign of arousal on his features whatsoever, but there was some sort of gratification: the satisfaction of seeing their hero of the ice reduced to a cum-licking servant.

Yuri had forgotten to breathe. He wanted to run _his_ tongue over those muscles, but watching Victor do it might actually have been better.

Victor cleaned diligently, ever mindful and aware of the hand on the back of his head and the direct path from that touch to the core of his groin. Only when he’d cleared away the last of Yuri’s leavings did Otabek loosen his hold and allow Victor to sit back. Victor rested on his heels, gazing at Otabek with an unreadable expression, and then slowly rose to his feet and extended a hand toward Yuri.

“You were so beautiful,” Victor murmured, caressing Yuri’s cheek. “We should leave you to your lover.”

Hearing Victor say it out loud - someone besides the two of them - made it real in a way that it hadn’t been just a moment before. Yuri flushed again, glancing over at Yuuri, whom Victor was in the process of helping dress. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Victor smiled. 

“Yes,” Otabek responded. 

Otabek caught Yuuri’s wrist. “Thank you.” 

Now it was Yuuri’s turn to blush under Otabek’s gaze. “Hai.” 

Victor’s arm went around Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri’s around Victor’s waist. By the time they left, Yuri’s buzzing energy was beginning to fade. 

“Say it again?” Yuri asked as he curled under the blankets. 

Otabek eased off his dance belt, pulling on underwear instead as he joined Yuri. 

He wrapped Yuri in his arms, kissed his forehead. 

“I love you.”


	15. Care and Craze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another poorer-than-normal editing job because I had to get this out today for Sintina (GOOD JOB, YOU!). I apologize profusely!! 
> 
> ... and I also know it's still not the club. WE'LL GET THERE. SOON. I PROMISE.
> 
> Also: I was so overjoyed/overwhelmed at the responses to the last chapter. Do you guys understand how great you make me feel? It's like, ridiculous. You slay me. Thank you all so much.

The drive home had been silent, both occupants exhausted, an emotional if not physical afterglow.

When Yuuri and Victor made it into their apartment, a split second passed before they both turned to each other and said, simultaneously:

“Can we talk about that?”

“We should talk, right?” 

Which, of course, sent them both chuckling, wrapping each other in their arms and pressing lips together. 

“Cuddle talk?” Victor asked.

“My favorite.”

They shucked out of their coats and shoes, and Victor made himself at home in the bed, arranging the pillows up into the corner as a half nest. Yuuri microwaved two mugs of water with lemon wedges and spoons of honey - their comfort tea - which he brought to the bed before snuggling up to Victor. Victor tugged Yuuri’s legs over his, then drew the covers up to their waists, lacing their bodies together and tucking them in. He sipped his tea with one hand, the other resting around Yuuri’s shoulders, until they were both settled and comfortable.

“You know I adore you more than the world?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri laughed, “Oh, I don’t know, what would all of your followers say if they heard?” 

“I think they love you just as much,” Victor winked. “I posted that picture of us hugging in the park and just got gifs of screaming women in return.”

Yuuri shook his head, leaning his forehead against Victor’s cheek. “I love you too, Victor.” 

There was a pause, a sip of tea. Yuuri asked: “You first?” 

“Mm,” Victor agreed. “Did… you and Otabek negotiate all of that?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “He said he would command me. I thought he was going to sit at the side and just tell me what to do to Yuri. All of the… all of the manipulation and grabbing and — and _that_ ,” he moved his finger the way Otabek had, like tapping, to instruct Yuuri when and how to thrust, “ - that just happened in the moment.”

Yuuri cleared his throat, cheeks reddening. “I was overwhelmed, actually; but I didn't want to stop or interrupt, not in the middle of that. And I think it turned out okay.” 

Another pause, another sip of tea. Victor always left space for Yuuri to figure things out and process them when they talked. There was never any rush - unless it was the 'that was terribly erotic and I’m amazingly aroused' sort.

“How are you feeling now?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri leaned into Victor. He was a curious mix of tired and energized. “It hurt, being there but not being there at all. But I was so happy to see… to see them find a way that worked for them? And to be a part of that? Even if I was invisible…” He made a face as he phrased the words, speaking awkwardly around them. He was never as good at talking about feelings as Victor. 

“Happy sad?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri nodded. “But good.” He said it, but his expression fell, and he nuzzled under Victor’s chin, murmuring: “I just wish I’d gotten to give him a hug at the end. I really, really wanted to hug him. But he was so… he was so in love with Otabek…” 

Victor set his tea down and used both arms to embrace his husband, fingers curling to rub over his lats and the muscular covering of his ribs. “Maybe we can ask for some aftercare next time, if they want to try it again. It's hard being secondary with someone you love when you're used to being my primary. I do my best to spoil you with love and attention, you know.” He said the last bit with his normal charm.

Yuuri couldn't keep down his smile, squeezing Victor once before pulling back.

He canted his head at his lover: “What about you? You just had to watch it all…”

“You know I love watching you. And seeing Yuri under you, and Otabek in control of you,” Victor said. “ _That_ was exceptionally good for me.” 

“I wasn’t the only one he was in control of,” Yuuri murmured, raising his brow at Victor. 

Victor flushed. “You saw that, huh?”

Yuuri chuckled, his mood brightening at his husband’s blush.

“Why embarrassed? You’re not usually so red when you go down on your knees for someone,” Yuuri said, accompanied with a smirk and the prance of his fingers across Victor’s chest. Victor groaned. 

“Yuuri,” he sing-songed. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” Yuuri pressed, fingers dipping lower. Victor set Yuuri’s tea down, then grabbed Yuuri’s wrist as it descended dangerously close to the growing bulge in his briefs.

“We’re supposed to be having a talk!” Victor chuckled.

“I said what I wanted to say,” Yuuri said. “Did you?” 

Victor growled as the fingers continued their wiggling motion along his skin, pulling up the edge of his shirt, revealing the taut anatomy of his abdomen. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Victor said.

“And I wanted to know what’s going on with you and Otabek,” Yuuri said. “But I think I have my answer…” 

His fingertips slipped down under Victor’s waistband, connected with his heated skin. 

“What is it about him?” Yuuri asked as his fingers found their familiar hold.

Victor let out a breath, arching into Yuuri’s hand. “You want to know?”

“Mmm.”

“It started that one lunch, when we left…”

—

“It really comes down to confidence,” Victor said. “Which is why you’ll be fine.” 

Otabek eyed him over their meal, eating slow and methodical - far different than Victor’s voracious consumption. 

“I don’t know what to tell him to do,” Otabek said. 

“It could be anything. You could tell him to perform an action, go somewhere, hold a position, touch himself, _not_ touch himself. You could make him do chores for you,” Victor shrugged. 

“Why would he enjoy that?” Otabek frowned.

“Because he’s doing it for you,” Victor said. “And he loves doing things for you. Just look at what he put himself through the past few months.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Otabek said.

“You can. If you want to. It just takes practice,” Victor said.

“I can’t practice with him.”

Victor paused, tilted his head. Otabek pursed his lips as he stared at his food, ran a hand through his hair.

“… I’m supposed to be perfect.” 

“Ah…” Victor said. “You’re worried if he see’s you fumble or not get it quite right at first, perhaps this magic spell he’s woven for himself will suddenly break?”

Otabek’s furrowed brow was answer enough.

“You might want to talk to him about that,” Victor said. “But from what I’ve seen, Yuri wants to be with you because of who you are - not necessarily because of any particular skill. It’s your approach, your attitude, that he’s infatuated with, regardless of how far along you are.”

Otabek didn’t respond, and Victor didn’t push him. He flicked through his phone, looking at the picture Yuri had posted outside the restaurant with Yuuri.

“Put your phone down,” Otabek said. 

Victor was too stunned by the sudden words to question it. His phone was on the table before he even realized he’d done it. 

“Like that?” Otabek asked.

“Yes,” Victor said. There was a moment of silence, then, softly: “Keep going.”

“Clear the table.”

Victor collected their bowls, brought them to the sink to wash.

“Only use one hand.” 

_That_ was surprising. Victor tucked one hand behind his back, grabbing the sponge with the other. He set it down beneath the soap, squirted a dollop onto it, and then picked it up again. He had to scrub almost like a potter on a pottery wheel, and the whole time Otabek watched him. 

“Switch hands.”

Victor had defaulted to his dominant hand. Without it, the difficulty increased considerably. He found himself blushing as he fumbled, awkwardly holding the dishes beneath the water. 

“Can I touch him while he works?” Otabek asked. 

“Of course,” Victor said, setting the second bowl down in the drying rack. “I’m sure he’d enjoy that.”

“Come here.” 

Victor’s feet carried him to Otabek’s side, eyes deflected. 

“I can make him kiss me?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Pose for me?” 

“Yes.”

“Get on your knees.”

Victor lowered his weight, then eased onto his knees, tucking them under his body. The hard floor wasn’t pleasant under them, but he could stand it, at least for a short while. 

“Bow to me.” 

For a split second, Victor was speechless. “And you thought you needed practice,” Victor whispered, touching his forehead to the floor at Otabek’s feet. 

He didn’t expect to feel Otabek’s boot on his back. 

“Hmm,” Otabek mused, the utterance accompanied by a firm pressure. “People like this?” 

“Yes,” Victor murmured when his brain had stopped short circuiting. He had time to take two breaths while Otabek adjusted the pressure of his foot, finally pressing down hard, until Victor’s chest was being constricted against the floor. “Do you like it?” Victor asked, his voice strained.

“ _Yes_.”

—

“He did that?!” Yuuri gaped. “Oh, Victor…” 

Yuuri’s hand tightened around him, stroking skin that had become rock solid over the course of Victor’s story. Victor’s muscles quaked, cyan eyes softening as he gazed at his lover. Yuuri knew what he needed. 

Yuuri peeled Victor’s clothes off, then pushed his own pants down far enough for his cock to leap free. 

“Come here,” Yuuri purred. 

Victor was on him almost instantly, straddling Yuuri and adjusting his position until his ass hovered like a bullseye over the arrow of Yuuri's cock. It pierced open Victor’s body and he sank onto the throbbing, veiny tool, luxuriating in the way Yuuri spread him wide. 

He whimpered, and Yuuri cupped his cheek. “It’s okay. Ride it out.” 

Victor lifted himself up, then sank down again, trembling when he bottomed out on Yuuri’s groin.

“There you go,” Yuuri sighed. He watched Victor work, the beautiful art of his body, the tension in his quads, the pulse of his hips and abdomen and the way everything worked together, symphonic in its harmony. “Poor love, I’ve neglected you. What would Chris say if he saw you like this?”

Victor blushed, plunging down again, then stayed seated and just rocked his hips, grinding himself on the solidity of Yuuri’s cock inside him. He was so ludicrously attractive, Yuuri's heart lurched.

“He’d ask you if he could fuck me. Give me what I need,” Victor murmured. “You’d say yes.” 

“Would I?” 

“It makes you jealous,” Victor said, voice strained. “But you love it. You love making him pull out before he can come. You love seeing me drink from him, swallow him.” 

Victor rose up again, riding at a steady tempo, eyes hazy with the pleasure of his endeavor.

“Or maybe you’d give him a different place to come,” Victor murmured, hand steadying himself on Yuuri’s hip, squeezing it for implication.

“You want him to fuck me again?” Yuuri asked.

Victor’s head tilted back and he slammed himself down in response.

“Or do you just like imagining it’s you underneath him?” 

Yuuri's tongue crept against his lower lip as he felt Victor clench at the idea. 

“Perhaps you’ve been imagining Otabek lately?” 

Bright red skin in response from Victor. 

“Yuuri…” he begged. 

“Shh. Ride,” Yuuri said, striking his hand across Victor’s ass. The smack resounded in the apartment and evoked another clench from Victor. He continued to piston himself up and down, tireless, minutes bleeding together as he pleasured himself, pleasured Yuuri. Fuck, he _had_ needed this. 

Each pass he lifted entirely off Yuuri’s body, teasing himself, hovering above that sweet source of pleasure for a split second before savoring the penetration again. There was something about Yuuri’s cock forcing his asshole open that always made Victor swoon. He craved it, drug-like, an the heady cocktail of oxytocin and adrenaline it created fogged Victor's senses, sending him awash in a world of heat and fullness and the invasive power of his lover's cock. 

“Hold it,” Yuuri said, catching Victor at the peak of his ride, just as his ass popped free. “You’re too close. Take a breath.” 

Victor’s eyes locked with Yuuri’s. Yuuri could do this forever. His natural stamina combined with his earlier orgasm meant he could stay hard for ages while Victor writhed. How much time had passed? The boundless energy Victor had first felt was waning, his body staring to succumb to the heat of exertion. Victor cursed out a breath, and Yuuri played delicately with his body: tickling his balls, playing with the head of his cock, pushing the sweet spot just behind it, all the while withholding any sort of stroke or squeeze that might actually set his husband off.

“Under control?” Yuuri asked. 

“Yes,” Victor whimpered.

“Ride.”

Yuuri tilted his hips, letting the head of his cock kiss at Victor’s asshole, and Victor was quick to swallow it down again. He needed to come. 

“Don’t,” Yuuri said as Victor started to touch himself. He caught Victor’s hand, pulling Victor down so he could bite his teeth into the soft flesh of Victor’s inner wrist. The pained gasp was a delicious reward, and Yuuri couldn’t help plunging his hips up towards his husband, other hand clutching Victor’s ass to hold him in place as Yuuri rutted. 

The whole time Victor just mewled into Yuuri’s neck, the pain at his wrist as Yuuri continued to lick and nip his tendons balanced out by the constant thrusts into his body. Even if Yuuri still wasn’t aiming for his prostate - was in fact actively avoiding it.

He was going to push Victor as long as he could.

It was what he’d dreamed of doing to Yuri - drive into his body with abandon, as long as he was able - but Otabek’s steady tapping had kept his thrusts at bay. He’d moved only when Otabek allowed him, a puppet at the end of Otabek’s strings. 

Now, Yuuri could call the shots.

Yuuri let Victor move upright again, gave his ass another hit to get him riding, and they held each other’s gaze as Victor returned to bouncing. Yuuri sank into the pillows, licking his lips as he watched his husband do all the work. The more time passed the harder that simple motion became, and Yuuri loved watching the dust of sweat turn into dew drops at Victor’s brow. 

“This is good but… I want you squatting instead,” Yuuri said, lifting his chin in challenge. On his knees, Victor could maintain the motions much longer. Squatting, he’d be breathless within a minute. 

Victor knew it, too. He groaned as he pulled his legs out from under him and planted his feet on either side of Yuuri’s hips. He braced himself on Yuuri’s abdomen, then hefted into position.

It was almost grotesque, how good the view was for Yuuri, how the moon of Victor’s ass made his cock appear and disappear like a magic show.

“Get these out of the way,” Yuuri said, swiping at Victor’s balls as they bounced. “But no stroking. No squeezing.”

Victor grabbed his cock and balls, lifting them up so that Yuuri would get that perfect view of his asshole, stretched out around Yuuri’s cock, sucking on it with every motion. The normal peachy-pink bud of his ass was bright red now from the stimulation, going from concave to convex and back again as it clutched onto Yuuri's skin. Yuuri let himself stare as Victor’s body grew increasingly weary, his breath increasingly heavy, until sure enough, he was panting like he’d just finished his short program. 

And still he rose. 

Yuuri slid his fingers under Victor, and the next time Victor lifted up off of his cock Yuuri lined it up so his fingers would get swallowed too.

“Yuuri!” Victor gasped, sinking down onto the combination of cock and Yuuri’s digits. He felt the fingers squirming and worming inside of him, the combined girth forcing his muscle close to its limits. 

“Come on,” Yuuri purred. “You can go down farther.”

Victor grit his teeth together and kept pushing down, gulping those fingers up to the knuckle, cock to the base. 

“How does that feel?” Yuuri asked, voice lust-husky.

Victor shook his head, unable to articulate anything, eyes closed as his body fluttered helplessly around Yuuri. Whatever words he might have said were lost in a weak, warbling mewl.

“It’s okay. Take your time,” Yuuri soothed. “I bet you like it, don’t you? All stretched and full of me?”

Victor tried to lift himself up, but for a split second the muscles of his calves gave out and he slipped back, slamming down onto cock and fingers with a cry. 

“Don’t stop,” Yuuri said. “I know you’ve got more in you.” His free hand came to Victor’s ass, hefting it up to get him going again. He let his fingers slip out, but not before rubbing them all along Victor’s asshole, playing with the exhausted muscle. Sweat beaded on Victor’s skin, the tremors of his muscles clear as he moved, supporting his weight on increasingly rickety foundations. 

Victor lasted another twenty some seconds before he paused, ligaments of his legs like elastic, quivering. 

“I said don’t stop,” Yuuri repeated, this time with a growl. Victor tried to move, two awkward humps onto Yuuri’s cock, and then again his body gave out. He landed, ass flush to Yuuri’s hips, cock completely embedded in his body. 

“Yuuri,” Victor whimpered. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Yuuri purred. “Go on your knees again.”

And Victor almost choked, because he had to do more? His legs already felt like liquid, but he tucked them beneath his body, back into his straddle position, and forced himself into that familiar rhythm of rise and fall, rise and fall. This used a few different muscles, ones that weren’t already burnt out, and he managed several minutes as his ass grew increasingly sore, the sweat and internal slick of his body combining into an uncomfortable stickiness.

“Yuuri,” Victor whimpered again.

“Need me to make it easier for you?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes, tilted them back and shut to lose himself in the feeling. He whimpered affirmation.

“Lift up,” Yuuri said, and Victor held himself over Yuuri's cock, quaking. He heard the wet, sluicing sound of lubricant on skin. “Down.” 

Victor sank onto the cool relief of the lube, slipping easily over his lover’s cock. With a struggle he resumed riding, occasionally rocking his hips the way he knew Yuuri liked - and the way that let Yuuri’s cock brush against his prostate. Yuuri’s body slid home inside him, carved its path through his ass, and that sweet pleasure helped Victor continue, even flush from overuse, trembling with exhaustion. 

“Go faster, Victor,” Yuri encouraged. “Maybe I’ll let you come.” 

Victor _ached_ , the sort of ache after a late night on the ice, after one too many reps. 

“Yuuri,” he begged. 

“You can do it.”

Every rise hurt. Every fall was sweet relief. Victor sank down onto Yuuri and couldn’t lift himself up again. 

“Ten more,” Yuuri said. 

Victor opened his eyes to stare at his lover, at that cocky, cool smirk Yuuri always had when he dommed. 

“Count them.”

Gathering his legs beneath him, Victor hefted himself up off of Yuri’s cock. 

“One,” he whispered.

He fell back down, the girth and texture and depth of Yuri more familiar, now, than his body without.

The next time he tried to lift himself, he failed, slipping down after only a few centimeters. 

“Careful,” Yuuri cooed, and Victor grit his teeth and pushed up, off of Yuuri. He held it there for a second, cursed: “Two”, and lowered.

“Faster. How can you get off if you go so slowly?” Yuuri asked.

“ _Yuuri_.”

“Come on, coach. Can’t keep up?” 

“Never with you.”

“Try.”

Victor groaned and managed four quick rises and falls in succession, every one a new breath. “Three. Four. Five. Six. Se—” 

But he didn’t quite make it to seven. 

“Come on, Victor. So close.” 

“Seven,” Victor gasped, summoning the reserves of his reserves. His lower body was burning. He wouldn’t need to worry about exercise tomorrow. With a grimace he shoved himself up again, squeezing the last impulses out of his nerves.

“Eight.” 

“Two more, Victor.” 

“ _Blyad_ ,” Victor cursed. He tried three different times to push up, catching himself on Yuuri’s abdomen with every fall. He was so hard, so achingly hard, and every fiber of his muscles shook and roasted with pain. 

“Two more.” 

He almost leapt off of Yuuri’s cock, springing with just enough effort to get off the tip before slamming down again. 

“Nine.” 

When had his eyes closed? He blinked at his lover, desperate, lips chapped from heavy breathing. 

“Come on, Victor. Davai!” Yuuri bucked his hips, and the angle hit hard against Victor’s prostate. Victor gasped, rising up, pushing himself to his limits and rising off that cock for the final time. 

“Ten!” He cried, and he gave up, collapsing onto Yuuri. 

But Yuuri didn’t let him rest. 

Victor was helpless as Yuuri pushed him over. He fell carelessly onto his back, and Yuuri crawled over him, flipped him onto his stomach, then yanked his hips up. 

Yuuri didn’t have anything in his ass to get him off faster, and Victor couldn’t reach around and finger him - not while Yuuri was tearing him open. This left Victor completely at Yuuri's mercy, and Yuuri was like an animal, raw and bestial, jackhammering into Victor without any signs of tiring. 

But he was hitting Victor’s prostate, and he was reaching under Victor, grabbing his cock and stroking it in time to his thrusts. 

And Victor was screaming. 

It hurt in all the right ways, and even raw Victor’s body craved Yuuri’s cock. The power in Yuuri’s thrusts ground Victor into the sheets, rubbed the cotton against the sensitive buds of his nipples, and smeared the flecks of saliva as Victor panted, mindless. 

Was he coming? He must have been coming. It felt like things were erupting, or maybe falling apart, or possibly getting sucked into the void that was his ass to be lost forever in this torrent of burning pain and pleasure. 

Yuuri kept going. 

Victor was a mess. 

He was going to be a wreck tomorrow. 

He loved it.

“Victor.”

Victor blinked, opened his eyes. Yuuri was there, smiling, holding out a glass of juice. “Drink, love.” 

Huh?

Victor looked at Yuuri. He was naked, spent, cock soft and looking like he’d already scrubbed it down. 

What the hell?

How out of it had Victor been?

Yuuri chuckled, helping Victor sit up, rubbing his back. It hurt to rest his weight on his ass. 

“Are you okay, Victor?” 

“Did you come?”

“ _Did I_ ,” Yuuri confirmed, sighing. “You spaced out a bit, hm? I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?” 

Victor shifted on the sheets with a wince.

“Yakov will kill me tomorrow,” Victor confirmed. “But he’ll get over it.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said.

“I would have told you to stop if I wanted you to.” Victor shifted, blinking and staring at his juice. “Wow.” 

He caught Yuuri’s smirk out of the corner of his eye, that distinctly male pride in being a good fuck. Victor elbowed him, and Yuuri laughed, snuggling back into the bed. Guzzling his juice, Victor set the empty glass aside and carefully positioned himself next to his husband, ever-so-mindful of his lower body. Yuuri cuddled him, spooning around behind Victor as he curled up.

“Ohh… Yakov will kill me,” Victor gasped as he tucked his legs and felt his ass sing out in protest at even that slight stretch.

“I’ll take the fall,” Yuuri reassured, rubbing Victor’s hip. “Who knows; perhaps you’ll feel better tomorrow morning.” 

But he didn’t.

— 

Yuuri had just finished pulling on his costume when he felt Yuri’s arms around him. The split second of tension faded as he recognized the familiar pale hands and Russian uniform. 

“Thank you,” he heard Yuri mumble, and the next moment twisted in Yuri’s arms to return the gesture. Yuuri wasn’t used to this sort of affection from Yuri - certainly not somewhere as public as the lockers - but it was what he’d been missing the previous night, and he savored it. 

Yuuri’s arms went from a firm hug to a comfortable cuddle, as Yuri had yet to release the pressure in his own grip. Worlds of emotion revolved around that simple gesture, and Yuuri felt their waves lapping against his shore. 

“I mean it,” Yuri said, tightening his arms as he craned his neck to see Yuuri. 

When Yuuri smiled, Yuri placed a quick, pecking kiss on Yuuri’s cheek, then bashfully moved it to Yuuri’s lips proper. 

“Thank you,” Yuri repeated against Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri couldn’t help his grin. The arms around Yuri became full-bodied, one staying around his shoulders, the other slipping down to brace on Yuri’s hip. 

“I was so happy to help you two,” Yuuri murmured. 

“I felt him,” Yuri said during the next interlude of their affection. They were laying delicate, sweet kisses against each other’s mouths, taking turns initiating and receiving, like a secondary conversation. Every press of lips was a loving thing, a tiny gesture speaking of far larger feeling.

Their tongues and teeth had yet to get involved. This wasn’t like one of their furious make out sessions: the heated, passionate, sexual sort. This was begging little touches, soft affirmations of everything swirling inside.

“We’re both grateful.”

Yuuri had been so caught up, so completely engrossed in Yuri, that he hadn’t even noticed Otabek at the edge of the lockers. He blushed at the realization while Yuri tendered several kisses across his cheek.

“Those are from Otabek,” Yuri said.

Yuuri blushed deeper still.

“I — I’m glad it all worked out,” Yuuri stuttered. “I didn’t do much.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without you,” Otabek said. He stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Yuuri asked, and Yuri kept up his little kisses, almost tickling along Yuuri’s jaw. 

“I didn’t check in,” Otabek said. “After.”

“Oh,” Yuuri laughed softly. Yuri snuggled into Yuuri’s side, gazing up at Otabek with unfiltered adoration. “You both had other things on your mind. I wanted you to focus on each other.”

“Still,” Otabek said. “I apologize.”

“Accepted,” Yuuri reassured. “Victor took care of me.”

“And then you took care of him, huh,” Yuri smirked, that puppy love transforming instantly into an immature and gleeful schadenfreude. “Did you see him walk? Yakov’s going to kill him.” 

Yuri seemed altogether excited about it.

Then he scooted up against Yuuri - quite a feat, given they were already flush together. “Will you take me like that soon?” 

“Not until after your exhibition, at least!” Yuuri said, giving a tsk of disapproval. “You have to take care of your body.” His eyes darkened and he grabbed Yuri’s chin, smirking: “You couldn’t afford to submit to me right now.” Yuri’s lips parted, his hunger for it so clear and deep it was almost sweet. Yuuri kissed him.

“If you do well at your exhibition, it can be your reward,” Otabek said. Yuri had just started to light up when Otabek added the caveat: “But only if you get a new PB.” 

Yuri licked his lips. _That_ was going to be hard. “You’ll let him fuck me?” 

Otabek nodded his agreement, “If you work for it.”

“I’ll do it,” Yuri growled. He turned to Otabek, making a fist. “Watch me, Otchka. I will.” 

“I know,” Otabek said. 

And he did.


	16. The Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho boy we finally got there! I was dying! I'm so sorry it took so long!
> 
> In the meantime, I wrote two ADKOC related drabbles:
> 
> [Sweet Kitten Kisses](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10538856), in which Yuri and Yuuri... kiss. 
> 
> [Sickness and Health](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9345557/chapters/23330080), in which Yuri gets sick and the other three smother him in attention. 
> 
> And now that we've crossed 900 HOLY SMUCK KUDOS it seems like a good time to remind folks that I take [requests here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9345557/chapters/21171464) and I play silly writing games and post inane blips on [tumblr here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nomanono). 
> 
> I love you all, as always. Thank you for being here <3 May this make you feel good, in your heart or your pants or otherwise :)

Victor Nikiforov loved few things more than watching first-timers explore the wonders of a kink club. 

While Otabek rarely expressed anything, much less fascination or excitement, Yuri was completely agog. 

They’d arrived early, giving Otabek and Yuri time to read the rules and sign their papers - after the proprietor had taken a solid minute to stare at Yuri’s ID and narrow his eyes in suspicion. Yuri just lifted his chin, arms crossing over his thin chest, but it wasn’t until Victor vouched for him that the proprietor finally, grudgingly, let them in. As others began arriving, Yuuri went to change and Victor took the newcomers on a tour of the equipment. Or rather: Yuri bounced from foot to foot with eagerness, leaning towards every odd structure and demanding an explanation but never stepping too far away from Otabek, who, decorated in his biking leathers, always had that guiding hand on the small of Yuri’s back.

Yuri had left it bare for just that reason. His hair was braided and pulled back into a high tail, eyes thickly lined and eyelids bearing a blush of smoke. He’d borrowed Lilia’s ear cuff again, the metal curving not quite to the lobe and ending with a dangling green gemstone that matched his eyes. The top he wore was a sheer, black material cropped just below his pectorals to leave his abdomen and lower back exposed. Across his shoulder blades were embroidered silver tiger stripes, stretching outward down the top’s long sleeves. With Yuuri’s assistance, he’d squeezed into a sinfully tight pair of clinging black booty shorts that left the hinge where thigh meets ass exposed. He pranced in tiny black boots with small heels like latin dance shoes, further accenting that hinge. 

It was lost on Otabek, of course, but the way it made people stare at Yuri was very much not. 

More than once the hand on the small of Yuri’s back slipped down to hook in the back of those tight, tight shorts. He’d pull Yuri towards him, slide his arm around his boyfriend with a particularly confrontational look to the ogling parties. Yuri delighted in both sides of things: in being seen and desired and in the rather delicious jealousy it evoked in his partner. 

“Victor. I mean - _Silver_ \- “ Yuri grumbled, “What’s this one!?”

Victor had gone with skin tight leather pants, polished black dress shoes, and a black dress shirt with far too many of the buttons undone.

“Tsk tsk, Tiger,” Victor winked. “Privacy, privacy. _This_ is a St. Andrew’s Cross.”

“What does it do?!”

“It’s very versatile,” Victor said. “One limb goes on each end of the X. It keeps your body stretched out and exposed. That way someone can play with you or flog you and not worry about you squirming out of the way to try and protect yourself.” Victor glanced at Yuri, held tight to Otabek’s side. “It also makes little kittens like you feel good because you’re restrained and you can’t move and you have to rely on your dom to treat you right. Or wrong, as they desire.” 

Yuri glanced up at Otabek. 

“Like when I spanked him?” Otabek asked. 

“Mm. Yes. Only he’d be able to squirm in response without breaking form, given he’s tied down.”

Otabek’s thumb brushed back and forth over Yuri’s skin, gauging his reaction, feeling the thrum of excitement as it passed down Yuri’s spine.

“What about that one!” Yuri pointed to a padded bench, leather manacles at each of its four legs. 

“This one’s much better for sex,” Victor smirked. “But the two are similar. You lay over it, almost always on your stomach, with your knees on the secondary pad, and your dom restrains you by ankles and wrists, usually. Then you’re available for sex or punishment or any sort of spanking, whipping, you know.”

“What about —“ 

Yuri was about to move on to the next piece when a couple approached it, a middle-aged man in leather vest and pants and a woman wearing nothing but a body harness and collar. 

“ _Where’s your switch, Silver_?” the man asked Victor in Russian, guiding the woman towards the rack. She didn’t look at any of them, her eyes on the ground in front of her. “ _Or did you upgrade?_ ” His eyes flicked to Otabek and Yuri. 

“He’s changing. Always eager to be beautiful, you know,” Victor said, shifting to English out of habit even though Yuuri wasn't around. “These are my friends: Tiger and Rider.” The man took the hint, though his speech was far more heavily accented than Victor’s when he responded.

“Lorde. Welcome to the club,” he said, holding a hand out to Otabek, easily able to read the dynamic between he and Yuri. 

Otabek accepted the handshake. 

“Yours a switch, too, or sub?” 

“Sub,” Otabek said, without glancing at Yuri. He knew well enough where Yuri’s tendencies lied by now, and the toe-lift he received in response was plenty affirmation. 

“You putting on a show?” Lorde asked, turning back to the woman and fastening her over the rack, arms stretched over her head, chest flat against the padded support, heeled feet splayed and body bent over, revealing her backside. 

“Not today,” Victor said. “This is their first time at a club. Tiger’s very… curious.”

“Well stand back and watch; I’m going to run Lily through her paces.”

Victor collected Otabek and Yuri and ushered them to the edge of the play space, where others were gathering to enjoy the public displays. 

Victor whispered: “He and Lily almost always reserve time on the equipment, and they put on wonderful shows. Do you want to stay and watch, or keep going?” 

Lorde pulled out a riding crop, and the first crack of leather to skin felt like a starting shot for the marathon, setting the club into motion for the evening. 

Yuri didn’t respond, was staring at the pink mark that rose in the crop’s wake and turning to press his chest against Otabek’s, watching the show over his shoulder. 

“What do you think?” Yuri asked, growling beneath his breath.

Otabek raised his brow at Yuri, the hand on the small of his back dropping down to cup the cheek of his ass. Only two of his fingers wound up over the shorts, the rest were on bare skin. 

“I think you’re hard,” Otabek whispered in return. He squeezed, and Yuri’s lips parted with a silent gasp. “Do you want Victor to train you for this?”

Yuri’s eyes shot to Victor, who responded with a smirk. 

“Crops and whips and flogs?” Victor caught Yuri’s chin, brushed his lip. “Teach you how to accept punishment from your master?”

Yuri blushed and burrowed against Otabek, mindful of the makeup on his face. 

Other couples came forward to use the X-frame and the bench, and Yuri felt like he was at a three ring circus - never knowing quite where to look. All of the couples were straight, two men domming ladies, and one lady with her male sub across the bench, tickling him with various feathers.

“Why tickling?” Yuri asked.

“Why anything?” Victor responded, but when Yuri glowered at him he laughed and continued: “Your nerves respond differently to touch when it doesn’t affect the muscles underneath your skin. Something about that disconnect creates a sort of… “ Victor waved his hand in the air, “unaddressed absence.” He used his fingernail to trail down Yuri’s exposed side, barely even touching, and Yuri’s whole body arced at the sensation - towards or away, it was difficult to discern. “It creates this need to be soothed, and when withheld, it’s a rather unique type of ache.” 

Yuri felt the lingering trail Victor’s fingers had taken, as if he’d left itching powder in his wake. That lightest of touch had set off a desire for more, his skin burning.

“Feel it?” 

It was only after Yuri nodded that Victor smoothed his hand down Yuri’s side, washing away the need.

Yuri looked at the man differently after that.

Yuuri appeared not long after, to both Yuri and Otabek’s shock. He stepped up to his husband, hair wisping back from his face, torso encased in a mix of solid black fabric and mesh through which his rigid nipples poked. A miniskirt clutched his hips, hearkening back to his Eros costume, though there were no tights under this one. 

As if to emphasize the fact, Victor greeted Yuuri with an intimate hug, hand slipping under the skirt to take his feel of the exposed flesh below. 

Yuuri took his place in front of Victor, not dissimilar to how Yuri stood before Otabek but without the complete look of servitude that always accompanied Yuri’s proximity. Victor draped his arms around Yuuri’s waist, who leaned back into him, side-eyeing Yuri for only a moment before he grinned. 

“What do you think, Tiger?” Yuuri purred.

“He’s quite excited already,” Victor smirked.

“When do they…” Yuri gestured.

“Fuck?” Victor laughed. 

Yuri glared but nodded. 

“Never. Not on this floor.” 

“What? I thought —”

“Not everything comes down to an orgasm,” Victor said, gliding his fingers over Yuri’s exposed abs, stopping with one finger on the hem of those nothing-to-the-imagination shorts. “Most kink - at least public like this - doesn’t.” 

This, of course, made Otabek tilt his head in interest. 

“But she’s so…” Yuri looked awkward again, gesturing vaguely to the clear arousal shining between the woman’s legs, puddling beneath them.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Victor sighed. 

Yuuri glanced at him with a shake of his head and Victor winked down to the tiger.

“Yuuri’s not the type to appreciate such things. Are you?”

“It’s _OK_ ,” Yuri said, but he was making a bit of a face. “Otchka’s — err, Rider’s better.” 

“You’re really not very good with this nickname business, are you?” Victor laughed. “Come, let’s go.”

He gestured, pulling Yuuri along with him and trusting Yuri and Otabek to follow.

“What about those?” Yuri couldn’t help himself as they walked towards a set of stairs, pointing to the hooks and pulleys hanging from the ceiling. 

“Rope work,” Victor said. “So you can get tied up, suspended, inverted. Or sometimes they’re for swings. But, again, normally those stay in the basement.” He paused at the top of the stairs, ever so aware of how many eyes were on Yuri, ever so aware of the way Otabek was holding him with a fierce protectiveness. “Now, before we go down, this is the wet area - that means fluids are OK. Mostly that’s just spit and cum and sweat. But not always. If you can’t handle being down there without looking judgmental, we leave. Clear?”

Three heads nodded, and Victor’s face broke out of its serious mask and back into his normal, charming grin. “Good! Let’s go then.”

Yuri was not prepared. 

The basement had far more bodies, and those bodies were doing far more. There were still clear play areas, and the spectators hung at the edges, watching, commenting, or conversing, but everything had an extra layer of intensity. He froze for a second, dozens of new kinks visible just at a glance. It would have taken him the entire night just to ask Victor about everything in this area alone. 

“Tiger.”

Yuri looked up at Victor’s voice, holding out a hand and drawing him through the crowd. They stopped before a broad alcove, with a bound, naked woman glittering like the jewel in the center of the geode. 

“ _Kris here has been my slave in training for just over a year, and tonight she’s trying to earn her collar at long last_ ,” said the man beside her - not the one inside her, fucking her. This one twirled a leather strip around his finger, silver tag jangling. “ _I told her she gets it if she can take thirty men - any hole you want. Will you help me?_ ” 

He held an old-fashioned chalkboard, currently boasting seven hash marks, and a pouch of condoms. 

Otabek felt the sudden, sharp shift in Yuri’s entire being.

“She’s a slave,” Victor whispered to Yuuri, translating. “A collar is usually a very significant step in a master/slave relationship. To earn hers, she has to take thirty men tonight.”

“Otchka,” Yuri hissed beneath his breath.

“I know.” 

Otabek’s hand slid up to Yuri’s neck, wrapping around the soft, delicate skin. 

Victor had seen the change, too, out of the corner of his eye, and watched the makeshift collar Otabek made of his hands. 

“Found something you want, Tiger?” Victor asked. 

“Teach me,” Yuri begged him. “Please. I can do that - I want - I want to do that. I know I can.”

Victor pretended to consider, touching a delicate finger to his lips as he looked their little kitten up and down. 

“I _do_ owe him a good long fuck from the exhibition…” Yuuri commented. 

“We could make a test out of it,” Victor smirked, moving his finger from his lips to Yuri’s. “We’ll evaluate all of your skills. See how long you can last. How many people can _fuck_ you.” 

He glanced at Otabek. 

“If your master allows it.”

Yuri twisted in Otabek’s arms, standing on his tip toes to get their eyes even. Otabek brushed his finger down Yuri’s nose. 

“You want it?” he asked.

“Please,” Yuri begged. “I want to show you what I can do. I want to make all of them jealous of you. I want to be the most beautiful body they’ve ever had.”

He blushed.

“And I want to wear your name around my neck, so they all know that I’m yours.”

And Otabek felt a pang in his chest at that idea. 

“You’ll keep him safe?” Otabek asked, this time to Victor. 

“Absolutely,” Victor said. “Push him to his limits, maybe a little bit beyond, even, but it would be safe. I’d just need your permission to let other people fuck him. More than just Yuuri and I. He might have stamina but it’s going to take more than that to prepare him for something like this. We’d need to add a few more bodies to our training crew. Just for a night. To make sure he’d be ready for… public consumption.” 

Victor gestured to the woman, a man at either end of her, their rhythms almost hilariously mismatched but everyone enjoying the act. 

“Silver!” 

Victor turned as the woman’s master waved at him, holding up a condom. There was an instant hesitation, a glance to Yuuri.

“Go,” Yuuri encouraged, smirking. “Get it out of your system.” 

That was all the permission Victor needed. When he’d stepped forward, hands already flicking the button of his pants, Otabek turned back to Yuuri.

“Yuuri,” Otabek said. 

“Hmm?”

“Watch him?” Otabek asked, guiding Yuri towards his counterpart. Yuuri placed his arm around Yuri’s waist, holding the kitten close, and furrowed his brow at Otabek.

“You okay?”

“Need a break. Keep their hands off him,” Otabek said. 

The chances of anyone at a club like this touching without permission was decidedly low, but Yuuri got the impression that wasn’t why Otabek had said it. Yuri’s lips turned up at the statement, glowing at the idea of being wanted. Otabek caught Yuri’s chin in his palm, lifting his eyes. 

“You obey him while I’m away, do you understand? He’s in control,” Otabek said. Yuri nodded seriously.

“Yes, Sir.”

Then, Otabek turned to Yuuri: “Do as you wish.”

“Come on, Tiger,” Yuuri said, pulling him to the edge of the crowd where they could watch Victor work. 

Or not. 

Yuuri could still admire his man’s body in motion, even if the genital formula didn’t do anything for him, but he found himself distracted by the feel of Yuri’s body in his arms. He tucked his fingers into that hinge under Yuri’s ass, squeezing the pale flesh.

“Next time, you need to wear shorts with a zip,” Yuuri said. His hand slid up the crevice of Yuri’s ass to indicate where he wanted the zip to go. “So I can get at you easier.”

Yuri nestled his body into Yuuri’s, watching Victor with one eye as he slowly ground against Yuuri. The acts all around him were impossible to ignore, Victor most of all. When was the last time Victor had fucked him? Yuri felt a sudden craziness about him, a sudden, desperate need to be underneath those hips, pounded by that strength.

“Have you done it here?” Yuri asked.

“He’s tied me up,” Yuuri said. 

“He knows how to do that?!” 

Yuuri chuckled: “Yes.” 

Yuri turned bright red, fingers tangling in the mesh of Yuuri’s top. Yuuri could feel every detail of his erection through the shorts, especially as Yuri continued to grind.

“God, look at him,” Yuri groaned. Yuuri’s eyes darted to his husband, watched the casual expertise with which he fucked. He was getting close, Yuuri could tell. And he could feel Yuri’s sympathetic crescendo in the tempo against his thigh. He tightened his grip on Yuri’s ass, stilling him, and leaned his lips to Yuri’s ear.

“He’ll go first,” Yuuri murmured. “When it’s your turn to be tied down on that bench. He’s bigger than me. He can open you up. Stretch you out for the guests so you’re good and comfortable…” 

“I want it!” Yuri declared again, nails scratching through the mesh. 

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“Good,” Yuri hissed. “I’ll prove my dedication to Otchka.” 

“ _Rider_.”

Another hiss. 

Victor withdrew just before he was ready to come, tied off the condom all the same and chucked it. His eyes scanned the room as someone took his place, and he smirked when he found the pair of them, up against the wall. He didn’t even bother to zip his pants - though the chances of getting his cock into them, thick and hard as it was, tight as they were, was almost null. Instead, he prowled to their corner. His arms made a cage around the two, and he feasted first on Yuuri’s mouth, then Yuri’s. 

“Get down,” Victor rasped. “Both of you.” 

Yuri and Yuuri exchanged a glance, then backed away enough that they could lower to their knees. The concrete beneath them was hard, but they didn’t care. Victor took their place, back against the wall, and was pushing his cock towards them: an impressive length of uncut arousal, moderately veined, with a faint shine from the condom’s dusting of lubricant. He hung it before their faces like bait, and they both moved forward in time. 

Yuuri took dibs on the head, drawing a wet line along the ridge of his favorite vein, following it to the sweet underside of Victor’s cock, and then swirling it once around the tip. He played at the slit, weeping salty tears, and thrust his tongue gently between those lips, creating a slow rhythm of pressure into Victor’s tiny opening. 

“Fuck, Eros,” Victor growled. 

The only response was a cocky smirk from his enmeshed lover, continuing the succulent penetration a few more times before encapsulating the head in his lips and starting to suck. 

Yuri concentrated on the shaft, nibbling at the skin that seemed to float over the dense, hard tissue beneath it, swollen with blood, overflowing with arousal. Yuri nestled his nose into the snowy frosting of hair near the base, breathing in Victor’s scent, letting it hit the back of his throat, mix with the leather, everything overpoweringly concentrated. 

He could get high off that scent of sex and latex and leather. 

Victor’s balls were trapped in the leather confines, but as Yuri nosed at them, flicked his tongue at the trapped things, Victor reached down and adjusted himself, pulling them out to rest in the bottom of the leather V of his fly. Yuri groaned in appreciation, took another deep breath, and tickled the perched sac with his fingertips as his lips tried to leave hickeys along the shaft. 

“Here,” Yuuri whispered, pulling off the head when he was satisfied, when Victor was close, when they could both feel Victor’s heartbeat as the blood rushed through the veins beneath their tongues. 

Yuri switched places with Yuuri, opening his mouth wide and gazing up at Victor, inviting him to thrust. 

But Victor was watching something else. 

Yuri felt two sturdy legs behind him, closing on either side of his body, narrowing to hug his upper back, and the crotch pushed against his hair, making him swallow Victor. 

He looked up, found Otabek above him, around him, and had the most absurd, abrupt image of a penguin coddling its child between its legs. 

Otabek had his forearm on the wall next to Victor’s head and their faces were so close, eyes locked. 

When Otabek moved his hips forward it forced Yuri to take Victor deeper. The air in his lungs was cut off, replaced by cock, and Yuri’s eyes watered as he started to swallow, getting the muscles working to draw Victor deeper. 

“How’s his training?” Otabek asked, holding Yuri in that close position, all but smashed into Victor’s crotch. Yuuri was sideways to them, but had pulled back, no longer having any room, what with Victor’s cock entirely embedded down Yuri’s throat. 

“You have,” Victor rasped, “an incredible boy.” 

He reached down, grabbing Yuri’s hair in a white-knuckled fist. 

“I’m going to fuck him senseless for you,” Victor promised, staring at Otabek, lips half parted with arousal and impending orgasm. “And then I’m going to invite everyone here to fuck him too.” 

He gestured to the crowd. 

Otabek moved his hips back and Yuri pulled off, half choking, gasping for air, leaking saliva.

“Don’t stop, boy,” Otabek said, grabbing Yuri’s hair from the other side, mirroring Victor’s grip. “Pay your coach.” 

Yuri opened his mouth but it was Otabeks’ grip that shoved him forward again, all the way onto that cock. Yuri’s body shuddered, gagging, sputtering, but Otabek only gave him a split second to pull back and recover before he was pushing him once more, closing that space. 

Otabek’s eyes flit back to Victor. 

His upper lip tingled with the warmth of Victor’s breath. 

“We’ll fuck him for you,” Victor repeated, the words no longer just auditory stimulus but tactile too, each syllable a new, curving spell of wind against Otabek’s skin. 

Otabek’s mouth opened, gaze flicking between Victor’s eyes and Victor’s lips. 

Only Yuri separated them, his head smushed between their crotches. 

“I’ll train him to do whatever you need,” Victor continued, holding Otabek’s stare, returning it. “To be ready for anything. To be given to anyone. To impress and enthrall and arouse and —”

Otabek didn’t breathe.

He watched the orgasm in Victor’s eyes, the way they seemed to sparkle, the light and the saccades mixing into this scintillating cyan masterpiece. The vibrations of his voice, toneless, wordless, and guttural, and the bob of his throat as the noise cut out in a few near-silent gasps. 

He felt it between his legs, in the sudden tension in Yuri’s neck as that already thick, long organ extended for its finale and filled him. 

He felt it in his chest. Near his heart.

Otabek moved his hips back, letting Yuri slip off, Victor’s spent, soaked cock sliding wetly out of Yuri’s throat and mouth. Yuri coughed, choking, and sputtered onto the floor, hands flat on the concrete between Victor’s shoes, bracing himself. Yuuri stroked him, rubbed his back until he recovered, and glanced up to see the pair of doms still locked in their stare-down. 

Yuri leaned back into the safety of his master’s legs, cheek resting on Otabek’s thigh, and watched the pair, watched their crackling proximity and tension. 

“You can,” Yuri whispered his permission. 

Otabek put a hand on Victor’s shoulder, holding him against the wall, and lowered his lips until they were nearly touching. Victor’s eyes felt like intoxicating pools of tropical waters, calling to him like a siren, begging him to drown. Victor breathed over Otabek’s chin, tilted his head so that the tip of his nose brushed against Otabek’s cheek. 

_It’s okay_ …

He inhaled Otabek’s breath, each drawing in the other’s air.

They were surrounded by people, yet there was no one but their quartet. They floated alone in a world that consisted only of this patch of floor and that sturdy wall, and Victor’s eyes and Yuri’s soft hair and…

“Boy,” Otabek whispered, breaking the spell. 

He scooted back, shattering the magnetic bond between his lips and Victor’s before the magic could be completed. 

Yuri looked up, makeup smeared from his ministrations, the gloss from his lips glittering under the hill of his cheek. 

“Sir?” Yuri asked, fixing his posture. He pulled his shoulders back, straightened his spine, tucked his hips. Even a mess - hair rumpled, lips red, mouth wet - he looked beautiful. 

Otabek cupped Yuri’s chin, brushed his thumb over Yuri’s mouth.

“Thank Silver for your meal.”

Yuri turned even redder and ducked his head. He gazed up at Victor - or just beneath Victor’s eyes - with a shy adoration. 

“Thank you, coach,” Yuri murmured. 

“You’re welcome, Tiger,” Victor said, sparing a moment to rub Yuri’s throat. 

Yuri glanced around, suddenly realizing that they were still in the club, that somehow a space had grown around them, that somehow they’d become just as much as show as the other play spaces. 

“Sir?” he asked.

“Yes?” Otabek answered. 

“I’d like to come, please,” Yuri said. 

Otabek looked down at the blonde in front of him. He knew Yuri was incredibly strong, incredibly driven, incredibly powerful. 

And yet here he was on his knees, begging for Otabek, looking at him with eyes that saw nothing but Otabek’s best qualities. 

“Stand up,” Otabek commanded. 

Yuri stood, almost chest to chest with Otabek, and Otabek reached between Yuri’s legs. The shorts were so tight it took Otabek nearly a minute to slide them over the bump of Yuri’s ass. He guided them down Yuri’s thighs, and Yuri trembled, more exposed than he’d ever been in front of more people than he’d ever been exposed to in his life. 

“All the way off,” Otabek said. Yuri managed to get his heeled boots through the leg holes, and Otabek took the shorts, leaving Yuri bare-bottomed. He tucked them into his pocket, then grabbed Yuri and turned him around, pushing him up against the wall. On instinct Yuri braced himself, and all Otabek had to do was pull Yuri’s hips back from the concrete. 

“Yuuri,” Otabek said. “Do you want to fuck him?” 

Yuuri flushed. 

Oh, god, did he want to. But… 

He glanced around the room, filled with people he half-knew. He’d been trussed before, naked, but he’d never —

“It’s alright,” Otabek said, noticing Yuuri’s hesitancy. Instead, Otabek stepped up behind Yuri, letting their bodies connect. He brought his hand around Yuri, underneath him, and grasped the cock was becoming increasingly familiar to him. A single, steadying breath to make sure he could cope with the contact, and Otabek began to slide his fingers. Yuuri stood, nestled against Victor, prime seats to see Yuri getting his release from his master. 

It didn’t take long. It never did when it was Otabek touching him. 

Victor pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, waiting, and was there when Yuri’s whimpering mewls turned into short, gasping cries. 

“You can thrust,” Otabek reassured the tiger, and with that permission Yuri fully debased himself, begging, groveling for his master as he masturbated against that grip, thrusting into the cylinder of Otabek’s fingers like a stud animal getting milked. Otabek used his other hand to rub Yuri’s exposed back, just watching the curiously hilarious and gorgeous fluctuations of muscle all wrapped up in his perfect Russian skater. Even hunch-backed like this in the basement of a kink club, Yuri owned his arousal, was utterly dedicated to the pursuit of his pleasure. 

“Please, can I come?” Yuri begged. 

As he was about to give permission, Otabek saw motion out of the corner of his eye. Victor was watching him, made a gesture with his hands, pulling them apart as if he was stretching taffy between his fingers. 

_Draw it out._

“Keep thrusting,” Otabek said. “Don’t come yet.”

“I’m going to —“ 

“Don’t.” 

Otabek curved his middle finger so that, on the next thrust, the tip of Yuri’s cock bumped into the exposed edge of his nail.

He’d expected the pain to squash Yuri’s erection, soften him so that he could last longer. 

Instead, Yuri cried out and came harder than Otabek had ever seen him come before. His whole body went rigid, suddenly a statue in place of the flesh and blood Otabek had been holding moments before. The noises that came out of his mouth sounded like pain: gasping, tortured things, but the expression on Yuri’s face was euphoric. 

Victor missed the first spurt from Yuri’s cock, caught the next three, and then held the handkerchief there while Otabek did the honors of final squeeze. Victor wiped the splatter off the wall and tucked the handkerchief away while Otabek scooped Yuri back against his chest. 

“Okay?” 

A dumb nod from Yuri.

There was no way the shorts were going back on Yuri’s body - not sweaty and damp as he was, not tight as they were. Instead, Yuuri went back to the changing room and returned with his athletic shorts. Otabek pulled them onto his boy, who was listlessly content after orgasm but still watching the gang bang out of the corner of his eye, uncanny determination twinkling.

“That’s going to be me,” Yuri told Otabek as he was dressed. 

“You need training first,” Otabek said. 

“We’ll get you there, Tiger,” Victor responded in turn. “Soon.”


	17. Forms of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This took a bit longer than normal but I promise it was for good reason!
> 
> First, Sin and I wrote an ADKOC prequel fic about Victor and Yuuri's first experience with another person: [After the Reception](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10638684/chapters/23537391). If you're interested in the 'first steps' of their sexual escapades, check it out! (E-rated). 
> 
> THEN, I got this lovely gift from verity: [and all he has given me he takes back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10571691). They wanted to write me something as a thank you for this series, so I listed off a few of my favorite kinks and if you're a fan of the Otayuri in this story I cannot recommend it enough. Verity's bdsm dynamics are absolutely exquisite. (It's not the same storyline: Otabek isn't ace spectrum, and I admit it was fun to see him get his pleasure out of Yuri!)
> 
> OK! So now back to our regularly scheduled kinky sex! As always: love y'all.

Changed into rather more acceptable public attire (or at least wearing jackets and athletic pants to hide it), the four collected their phones from the confiscation point and left the club not long after their tryst. The area was busy, far more mundane clubs filling this particular block of St. Petersburg, and it didn’t take long for them to mesh into the late night crowd.

“Hey, Yuri!” 

Yuri jumped, glancing over his shoulder towards the sound of the voice. Otabek had his hand in its normal position, fingers spread across the small of Yuri’s back, guiding him subtly. It prevented Yuri from turning, as he normally would have, and saved him the embarrassment of realizing the call hadn’t been for him. 

“Different Yuri,” Otabek reassured, seeing two strangers unite and clasp hands nearby, fumbling in their intoxication. 

The tension seeped out of Yuri’s body, the city lights clearing out his head, clearing out the sensuous fog the club had left behind. He was still sorting through his memories, all the half-seen curiosities he wanted to ask Victor about. 

“Could I… wear my kitten costume there?” Yuri asked. 

“Of course,” Victor said. “Have you been wearing it much beyond the scene we did?”

Yuri blushed, but it was Otabek who nodded.

“He’s worn it twice since,” Otabek said. “Not the muzzle. Ears and paws and tail.” His fingers brushed Yuri’s back, encouraging, and Yuri felt a lurch of confidence. 

“I love getting cuddled in it. I wear it when we watch movies and Otchka pets me,” Yuri said. “He loves to hold me.”

Yuri spun on one foot to look back at Otabek, grinning to him broadly. Victor and Yuuri could both see the self restraint Yuri was exerting to keep himself from pouncing on his lover in public. Otabek, too, seemed to notice, and knocked his knuckles gingerly against Yuri’s chin in a platonic acknowledgment. This satisfied the little tiger, who took his place again at Otabek’s side. 

“Yuuri,” Otabek followed up when they reached the car, Victor waving his hand at the door handle to unlock and open the vehicle. 

“Mm?”

“You didn’t come at the club,” Otabek said. “Why don’t you let Yuri take care of you in the back?” 

And he nudged Yuri forward so carelessly, so effortlessly giving away Yuri’s body and services. 

Which, of course, Yuri adored.

Their tiger’s chest puffed with pride before he could stop it and Yuuri, who’d been willing away his half chub since the changing room, could hardly turn down the offer. Alone again with his lovers, all he wanted was to relieve that pressure. He abdicated his shotgun privileges to Otabek and slid into the back seat.

This wasn’t the first time Yuuri had tried to undress in the back seat of a car, but he’d never been wearing anything quite so tight before. Luckily, Victor was kind enough not to start moving until Yuuri had managed to draw out his cock. Yuri curled up on the backseat, head in Yuuri’s lap. 

“Hey kitten,” Yuuri smiled down to him as he watched Yuuri’s mouth grope for and then engulf his flesh. He watched those thin pale lips stretch out around his dark skin and groaned in relief at the attention. “Nngh. Good boy.”

He sank into the seat, fingers reflexively at Yuri’s hair. He’d pulled out the ruined braids in the changing room and his hair was a rumply mess, perfect for Yuuri’s fingers to sink in to. He used the hold to guide Yuri’s ministrations, slowly massaging the pads of his fingers against Yuri’s scalp when he enjoyed it, scraping his nails when he _really_ enjoyed it. Whenever Yuri got too intrigued by a certain facet of Yuuri’s anatomy and forgot to change up the patterns, Yuuri just had to give a light tug, lifting Yuri’s mouth up and then resettling it over his cock again.

“God, you’re such a good boy,” Yuuri groaned. He hadn’t realized just how turned on he’d been at the club, just how much he’d been needing something like this. “Tiger…”

The two doms in the front listened with amusement as Yuuri continued to quietly praise his rival.

“So, what did you think?” Victor asked Otabek, providing the occasional glance to Yuuri in the rear view.

“Overwhelming,” Otabek responded. “Intriguing. They were hungry for him.”

“Mmm,” Victor said. “Don’t normally get anyone that young and eager - especially with that physique - at the club.”

Yuuri felt Yuri’s tongue redouble its efforts, felt his cock slide until it hit the back of Yuri’s throat. He was very proud of himself: proud of his body, proud of his desirability, proud of how that reflected back on Otabek.

“I’m sure they’ll love him when you offer him up,” Victor mused. It was said so offhand, but Yuri twitched. 

He heard the stranger calling his name again: “Yuri!” A sudden, frigid chill swept over him, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt. If even one of the strangers at the club had a camera, even _one_. 

Yuuri tugged on his hair, and Yuri focused again on the cock in his mouth, only to feel another tug a few moments later, pulling Yuri off of him. 

‘You OK?’ Yuuri mouthed. 

Yuri blushed, ducked his head. 

“What if — are there other ways to — I want to — “ Yuri tried to start a sentence several different times, until he got so frustrated with himself that he curled his hands into fists and pushed away, balling up on the seat away from Yuuri. 

“Yuri, what’s wrong?” Yuuri asked.

Victor glanced back as he came to a red light. 

“Did our little tiger finally find one of his limits?” Victor smiled softly in the rearview. “Thank goodness, I was beginning to think you were inhuman.”

Yuri blushed bright red, burrowing back into the seat. “It’s dumb!”

“It’s never dumb,” Victor corrected. “It’s _you_ , and you are very important to all of us.”

He waited a moment while Yuri scowled at the world.

“Do you not want that many people in you?” Victor asked as he started to drive again.

“I do! I just — not…” Yuri frowned. 

“Not ones you can’t trust?” Otabek supplied. “Not ones who mean nothing?”

Yuri bit his lip, and without thinking swam into Yuuri’s arms. 

“Yes,” he mumbled into Yuuri’s shoulder. 

“That’s no reason to be embarrassed,” Yuuri said, kissing their kitten’s shyness.

“But I want a collar! I want Otabek to own me!”

“I already do,” Otabek said.

“But I want — I want it on me.”

“Yuri,” Victor started, “You realize that getting fucked senseless by a group of strangers isn’t the only way to earn a collar, yes?”

Yuri glared, because … well, no, he hadn’t known exactly? For all that Victor and Yuuri had taught him, he was still terribly new to almost all of this.

He shrank into Yuuri, and Yuuri enveloped him in his heat, made only slightly awkward by the fact that he hadn’t managed to get his dick back in his pants. 

“So: you still want to get fucked senseless, you just want it to be with people you trust,” Victor said. “That seems completely reasonable. Even Yuuri doesn’t let strangers fuck him.” 

“Eh!? What’s that mean?!” Yuuri feigned insult. Victor blew him a kiss in the rear view. 

“I’d already figured out who to ask for your training session,” Victor said. “This just means it’ll be a more significant type of test.”

“People I trust?” Yuri asked. 

“Mhmm,” Victor said. “Friends who can keep secrets, who have the same thing to lose, who are into this sort of thing.”

Yuri was still buried against Yuuri. 

“OK,” he agreed. “But it has to be just as intense! 30 people!”

“None of us have that many kinky friends,” Victor chuckled. “We’ll do five hours. That’s how long the club is open. You’ll get fucked for five hours.”

“Deal,” Yuri said, slamming his fist in his hand. Then he shied, and glanced to Otabek. “Err… is that okay, Otchka?”

Otabek's eyes softened into something like a smile. 

It was this strange expression on the normally stoic Kazakh.

“First you come when I tell you not to, then you stop with Yuuri before he’s finished, _now_ you ask for my permission?” Otabek asked. 

It was the first time any of them had heard him make a joke. 

“Five hours,” Otabek agreed, when he received an amazed stare from his lover. “But I _am_ going to punish you tonight for disobeying.”

Yuri braced his hands on the center console, leaning forward so he could kiss Otabek’s cheek. 

“Yes, Sir!”

“Yuri. Buckle up if you’re not blowing,” Victor chided. 

At long last Yuri seemed to remember his initial instructions. He turned back to Yuuri, whose cock had softened in the nest of his pants. 

“Sorry, Yuuri,” he said. 

“Don’t worry,” Yuuri laughed, reassuring his rival with a kiss. “Raincheck.”

—

Home at last, Yuuri fell asleep to the white noise of Victor tidying the apartment, a sort of wind-down routine he had when there was still too much energy coursing through his veins but not enough to do any particularly focused task. 

He was hardly asleep when he stirred to the feel of Victor’s hand sliding over his shoulder, down his bicep. Even just from that simple touch, Yuuri found himself smiling, knowing exactly what his husband desired. Victor lifted the soft fabric of Yuuri’s sleeping t-shirt just enough that he could hook his fingers into the waistband of Yuuri’s briefs. 

Yuuri, never opening his eyes, never even fully awake, relaxed his thighs, slipping one forward so that Victor could pull down the underwear. Then he shifted, angling his hips so that his glutes lifted away from his legs. It was a silent offering, a simple gesture to make the task at hand easier for his husband. Not a moment later Victor cuddled up behind him, brushed a lubed cock against his cheeks, and slowly sank inside while he left little kisses on Yuuri’s neck. 

For all the adventurous things they did together, for all the exotic and kinky sex, when it came down to it there were few things Yuuri loved more than these slow, lazy, half-asleep moments of love-making. The sensation of his husband filling him, of their bodies joining in the most intimate way, sent an incomparable warmth through Yuuri’s abdomen and chest and cheeks. 

Victor looped an arm around Yuuri, which Yuuri covered, fingers lacing, and he idly followed the pattern of Victor’s breath on his shoulder as Victor’s thrusts swayed both their bodies. 

They were small thrusts, little pushes inside of him and out again, not really aiming anywhere in particular. Just enough to make Victor feel good. Just enough for him to expend the last bit of his energy for the night. 

Yuuri hadn’t realized how much Victor must have enjoyed the club, to want to empty himself again before bed. He wondered, idly, still half-dreaming, mind still untethered from the normal constructs of reality, if it was getting to lay with a woman, or getting to see Yuri displayed for the public, or perhaps even seeing Yuuri on his knees.

Perhaps it had been Otabek. 

And for a moment Yuuri frowned to himself, a sharp pang of adrenaline making his eyes open and the world fall into sharp relief. 

“Am I enough?” he murmured, barely a ghost of a whisper. 

Of all the things he could think about, he very much doubted it was _him_ at the center of Victor’s lust. 

Victor’s pace changed at Yuuri’s words, slowed. He pulled on Yuuri’s shoulder until Yuuri rolled to his back, his legs draped over Victor’s while Victor curled around him sideways. 

Still joined.

Still thrusting. 

Still adoring.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, kissing the corner of Yuuri’s eye. “My love, my husband, my everything.”

He laid a hand out over Yuuri’s chest, rubbing through the soft jersey material of his shirt. “Enough implies that you merely satisfy me,” Victor murmured. “Yet, I wake up every day more in love with you than the last, and should I have nothing but you, for the rest of my life, it would be the greatest life I could ever ask for.”

Yuuri blushed brightly at his husband’s words, eyes twinkling as he gazed at his silver-haired love. 

“Honestly, my little eros,” Victor grinned, lowering his lips so he could nibble Yuuri’s ear as he spoke. “I adore what we’re doing with Yuri and Otabek. I adore getting to play around at the club. But all of that was erased when I looked over and there you were, asleep in our bed, hair tousled, shirt riding up juuuuust enough in the back that I could see your sweet dimples,” Victor couldn’t even keep himself from grinning like a lovestruck fool at the memory. He reached under Yuuri and poked one of those adorable indentations. “ _That_ is why I had to be inside you.”

And to emphasize, Victor slid in deep, cuddling Yuuri as he continued his rhythm. 

Yuuri’s smile was uncontrollable. 

It wasn’t Yuri. It wasn’t the woman. It wasn’t Otabek.

He twisted towards Victor as much as he could without dislodging him, throwing an arm around his husband in a tight hug.

“I love you, Victor.”

Victor coddled his husband, eyes so bright with affection, adoration, body thrilling with the joy of their union. 

“I love _you_ , Yuuri.”

\--

The anticipation Yuri felt as he came into Otabek’s apartment felt like a string of knots, starting in his throat, pulling on his stomach, and ending in a deliciously tight coil between his legs. 

“Are you awake enough to be punished?” Otabek asked as he closed the door behind them and flicked the lock.

“Yes, Sir,” Yuri said. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until it had happened; he was riding on too much adrenaline.

“You’re ready for pain?” Otabek asked. He was behind Yuri now, helping Yuri take off his jacket, revealing that tantalizing crop top underneath. As soon as he saw it Otabek ran his hand over Yuri’s exposed abdomen, feeling the tension his words evoked in his boy.

Yuri took several quick breaths, afraid and excited and so aroused.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy,” Otabek said, pushing down the athletic pants Yuuri had let Yuri borrow. Yuri was naked underneath, and by the time they reached his ankles Yuri had already kicked off his shoes and socks. Otabek ran his hand back up the inside of Yuri’s leg, cupping Yuri’s hardened and oozing cock as he passed it and then continuing up.

This was his boy. _His_ boy. 

Otabek remembered the way everyone’s eyes had followed Yuri - the way they had wanted him, watched his ass, imagined themselves all over him. 

But only Otabek got to bring Yuri home with him. 

Only Otabek got to truly enjoy Yuri’s body. 

… Only Otabek got to hurt him.

For a moment Otabek’s hand was still, resting on Yuri’s chest and rising and falling with his breath. Why did the idea of hurting this perfect body, this sweet teen, thrill Otabek so deeply? Satisfy him so much? He shouldn’t _want_ to hurt someone else, should he? And yet…

“Spread your legs. Grab your ankles,” Otabek said. Yuri obeyed, widening his stance and then bending easily to hold his ankles. He went farther, elbows under his knees, arms wrapping around his legs. 

“Good boy.”

And then Otabek left him. 

Yuri watched Otabek’s feet, upside down, wandering the kitchen, then the bathroom. He opened and closed drawers, turned on the sink tap, drank a glass of water. 

“Warm up first,” Otabek said. 

Yuri wasn’t sure what that meant, but Otabek walked back to him at long last, and the next moment he felt something tapping against his ass, striking across his right cheek. He jumped at the sensation - not because it was painful, merely unexpected - then settled into his bent over position while Otabek moved the taps across his backside. It had to be a spatula: something broad and flat, and it was getting more forceful as Otabek continued:

Tap tap, tap tap, tap tap, THWACK.

The first thwack made Yuri’s ass clench together, right across both cheeks. He moaned at the feeling, the sharpness of the pressure singing through him. 

“Feel good?” Otabek asked. 

“Yes, Sir,” Yuri murmured. 

Otabek moved the taps down, the next THWACK landing across the backs of Yuri’s thighs. Then he spent a few measures tapping against Yuri’s hanging balls. How terrified Yuri was that the THWACK would land on them too, but every time they got to that last beat of the rhythm Otabek took to his thighs instead. 

He still danced, squirming in his position, as his balls were struck, cock staying rock hard while Otabek hit him.

Then the rhythm shifted:

Tap. THWACK. Tap. THWACK.

There was less time to breathe between the harder strikes, and even those were getting harder. Yuri yelped as one came down at the bottom of his ass, catching a glancing hit against his taint.

“Feel good?” 

“Nnn…. I think so, Sir,” Yuri managed, on the precipice where pleasure and pain were all confused together, where it hurt but also electrified him. His ass was warm from the strikes now, had to be red, but just to make sure Otabek brought the spatula down for another two measures, every single beat a hard, cracking THWACK.

“Ah!” Yuri yelped towards the end of it, his ass muscles clenched as tightly as they could despite his stretch.

“Stand up,” Otabek said, cupping a hand around that ass, rubbing the handle of the spatula soothingly over the bright pink of Yuri’s backside. Otabek knew that Yuri was beautiful - stunningly beautiful, if everyone’s ogling was to be believed - but he couldn’t help think Yuri was made even more so by the flush from his spankings. 

“Thank you, Sir,” Yuri murmured as he stood, as he relaxed into Otabek’s arms and processed the fiery sensation emanating from his ass.

“Not done,” Otabek warned. He went to the bed and Yuri wet his lips as Otabek withdrew a little shoebox - the beginnings of their own collection. They’d likely never rival Victor and Yuri, but something about knowing Otabek had bought things for him, was keeping them for him, made Yuri elated. Otabek withdrew a bottle from the box, then replaced it under the bed. Grabbing a small towel, he went to the couch and took a seat.

“Across my lap,” Otabek instructed, setting the supplies on the back of the couch. 

That was the position for spankings by hand. Yuri had only been spanked that one time before; one of the first things they ever shared together, the four of them. He felt a little thrill, right alongside the worry that his ass was already so very red.

“Now,” Otabek said, and Yuri realized he’d been gawking.

“Sorry, Sir,” Yuri murmured, light steps taking him to Otabek’s side. Otabek lifted his arms and Yuri laid himself down over Otabek’s thighs. Otabek gave him a pillow for his head, and Yuri found himself rubbing his cheek against the plush material while Otabek ran his hand up and down Yuri’s bottom. 

Otabek pulled out a second bottle - no, it was a little tin - though this one came from his jacket pocket. Something he’d picked up from the kitchen? Bathroom?

“What…?” Yuri asked in curiosity. 

“Saw someone using it when I took my break,” Otabek explained. “Thought it would be good for you.” 

He remembered the demonstration that had been going on as he passed, the way a single, simple swipe of the oil had sent the woman writhing. Yuri caught a whiff as soon as Otabek opened the tin. It made the inside of his nose feel like champagne bubbles. 

“Spread your legs,” Otabek encouraged. Yuri groaned, just hearing Otabek’s commands, being told to make himself more vulnerable, knowing that Otabek was going to use that vulnerability to hurt him… 

Yuri’s cock throbbed between his legs. He widened them, bearing his body to Otabek and was surprised to feel Otabek grab his thigh and tug them even farther apart. He’d seen Yuri practice enough to know how far his body could stretch, and this was nowhere near that limit.

“This will hurt,” Otabek said. “Are you OK?” 

“I know, Sir,” Yuri said, trying not to sound afraid. “I’m OK, Sir. I disobeyed you. I need this.”

He blushed, hiding his face in the pillow. 

The next thing he felt was a cool, wet fingertip between his cheeks. Otabek’s finger touched his asshole, smearing whatever was in the tin all around the rim. It felt icy cold at first, far cooler than a simple lube would have made him feel, but the next minute?

“Ooohhhnnn,” Yuri moaned into the pillow as it started to heat up. 

Otabek wiped his finger off on the towel, then set his hand on Yuri’s upper thigh, holding him in place. 

“Stay still,” Otabek commanded. “Let it work.”

“Sir,” Yuri acknowledged, but Otabek could see the muscles in Yuri’s back twitch as the heat grew. His ass started to clamp, muscles slamming together against that heat, which only served to grind it deeper into his delicate tissue. Otabek’s fingers made little indentations in the otherwise perfect log of flesh that was Yuri’s leg, and all of those little jerks and flashes of tensions came through to him. He set his other hand on Yuri’s upper back, brushing his thumb back and forth, steadying his boy while the balm went from heat to a painful burn. 

“Otchka! Sir!” Yuri yelped, body jerking, but Otabek held him still, held him open. Yuri started whimpering, and Otabek felt him struggle to keep his position, even as his muscles went taut with the effort of it, even as sweat started dusting his back. Yuri turned his head to the side to pant, shuddering. 

His asshole felt like it was on fire, like someone was holding a red hot iron against it, like someone had put a wick inside of him and now the flame was using his poor muscle for fuel. _God_ it hurt, and it was getting worse, and Yuri wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

“Feel good?” Otabek asked again.

“No, Sir!” Yuri gasped.

“Good. Then it’s finally punishment.”

_Fuck!_

Yuri didn’t know how he could be simultaneously turned on and in so much pain, but he didn’t have time to contemplate because Otabek’s hand came down across his ass, hitting him harder than he’d ever been hit before, and Yuri screamed. 

“Count,” Otabek commanded. “You’ll get five.”

“ONE!” Yuri shrieked. 

Oh god, oh god, oh god, it hurt. It burned and now there was this new pain, this sharp shock to go alongside the slow aching waves. Yuri was overwhelmed; his body so _alive_.

“Two!” he managed the next time Otabek’s hand came down, rocking his entire body, making his chest slide across Otabek’s thighs. His limbs jerked, and it was luck alone that he managed to keep them from slamming together. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt and there was no way for Yuri to get away from that flame. No matter how he twisted, no matter how his muscles tensed, the burning balm continued to ruin him.

Otabek’s hand rose again, and Yuri winced in anticipation, on the verge of falling apart.

“Three!” Yuri screamed. He felt tears in his eyes and let out a huge gasp, shuddering at how powerful that blow had been. “Let me rest! Please, Sir, just a moment!” Even though he knew there was no escaping the balm, no rest from that burn.

But the hand came down again, _so hard_ , and Yuri was reduced to a sniffling mess across Otabek’s lap, body jerking within the confines of the pose Otabek put him in. 

“Ah!” Yuri cried. “Four! Please! Sir! Stop!” 

Otabek looked at him, raised a brow, waited for Yuri to say the safe word.

And when he didn’t, Otabek brought his hand down again. 

“FIVE!” Yuri broke, tears blossoming and trailing down his cheeks as he sobbed over Otabek’s legs. 

It was like a dam had burst. Yuri hadn’t cried since the Grand Prix, but now he broke down, all of that pain and arousal and everything choking out of him in giant hulking shudders. He wailed like a child across Otabek’s lap, tears splashing onto the pillow. He was only vaguely aware of the towel between his legs, wiping away the balm and something else, like Yuri had come and been so assaulted by sensation he hadn’t even realized. He was only vaguely aware of Otabek’s hand covering his sore skin in a different oil, that first bottle, this one soothing and cool as Otabek rubbed it into the bright pink plush of Yuri’s ass like an apology. 

He sobbed against Otabek’s shoulder as Otabek cuddled him, wrapping him in the big wool throw blanket they’d picked out together. 

“Are you okay?” Otabek asked, cradling Yuri. He was admittedly spooked by the sudden breakdown, wished that Victor were there to help him through it. Had he pushed too far?

But he felt something else, too, as he watched Yuri cry; something that filled him with an even deeper shame. He’d enjoyed it.

“That hurt!” Yuri gasped, but he was hugging Otabek so tightly.

“I know,” Otabek murmured. “Too much?” He swaddled Yuri in the blanket, folding Yuri’s limbs up in the thing until his little kitten was just a compact bundle with a beautiful, tear-streaked face. Otabek kissed Yuri’s tears, then his mouth. 

“Thank you, Sir,” Yuri finally murmured. 

Otabek felt some of the tension seep out of him. 

“Yuri…” 

He carried his bundle from the couch to the bed, tucking the cocoon under the sheets. He brought Yuri a glass of juice, diluted with water, and held it to his lips until he was calm enough to drink. His crying had stopped, though he still sniffled from time to time, but a curious, powerful sort of peace was rapidly filling the empty space cleared out by that soul deep cry. 

“I love you,” Yuri murmured, looking up at Otabek from the safety of his blankets. Otabek touched their foreheads together as his arms came around the bundle, adoring with every bone in his body. Yuri brushed his cheek to Otabek’s, sighing across his skin. “My Otchka.”

“Yurike.”


	18. Tender Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me every frickin' step of the way and I'm still grumpy with it. You hear that story?! I'M GRUMPY.
> 
> Since the last post, you may want to check out [What's Past Perfection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10704687), which is a potential future for our boys here, after Yuri's been all trained up. It focuses on Otabek and Yuri, and what happens when Otabek takes Yuri with him to DJ. Decidedly kinky and very E-rated!
> 
> (And if you're into the whole Chihoko madness, Sin and I wrote our take on it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10762548), too)
> 
> FINALLY: if you really want to see someone help with Yuri's big test day, let me know who - and yes, we'll get back to Yuuri and Victor next chapter ^-^

It took two weeks for Yuri and Otabek to talk about what had happened.

They’d missed the alarm the next morning, both exhausted, and wound up frantically rushing to get to the rink. Yakov’s punishment for tardiness was extended practice in the evening, and Yuri’s rest day was occupied with photoshoots for one of his new sponsors. 

Yuri was always focused and determined in practice, head strong but absolutely driven. Still, everyone noticed the calmer way he went about his drills. 

“Did you finally get laid, Yuri?” Mila taunted, but Yuri just glanced at her, head tilted, and then picked up enough speed to launch into a quadruple flip. 

Otabek, conversely, looked more distracted than ever. He was always more introverted and introspective, but it was clear to anyone on the ice that his mind was elsewhere. 

It took [two stern conversations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9345557/chapters/23905347) \- Yuuri to Yuri and Victor to Otabek - to convince the pair that they needed to talk about what had happened. The elder couple had been shocked to realize something so intense had gone down without any sort of real discussion afterwards.

When their free days finally synched up again, Yuri found himself at the door to Otabek’s apartment. 

He hadn’t meant to just show up. 

But he’d needed to run - desperately - and eventually his path had landed him at Otabek’s doorstep, sweat-damp and red-cheeked. 

There was no answer when he knocked. 

_Are you home?_ Yuri texted.

_Yes._

_Answer your door!_

“Yuri,” Otabek blinked, a minute later, and held the door open. Yuri sidled his way in. “What’re you…” But something had caught Yuri’s eye and he was already on a mission. The garden door was open, a fresh piece of wood on the little side table outside, showing bright new knife scars. 

“Were you making something?” Yuri asked. He went outside before Otabek could answer, picking up the piece of wood. “It’s Makkachin!” 

Otabek let out a rushed breath of air. “It’s nothing.” 

“It’s so cute!” 

Otabek leaned in the doorway, watching Yuri turn the carving over with that soft fondness reserved exclusively for his lover. 

“It’s not finished yet. I was going to give it to Yuuri and Victor…” 

Then it was Yuri’s turn to give Otabek an adoring glance. 

“You like them, yeah?” Yuri asked. Otabek pushed off the door frame, walking out to the lone chair. He sat down, then drew Yuri, sweaty and everything, into his lap. His hand folded around the carving, easing it out of Yuri’s hand, and he took up his knife. 

“Yeah,” Otabek said. 

Yuri watched as Otabek hooked his chin over Yuri’s shoulder and continued to nick away little bits of wood, refining the shape of the poodle. They were both quiet, comfortably so, but Yuri heard Yuuri’s voice in the back of his head. _Talk to him!_

“I’m really sorry I cried like that,” Yuri muttered.

He thought Otabek would stop, but he kept up the slow, measured carving motions, like he’d been expecting something like this.

“Don’t apologize,” Otabek said. “I didn’t mind. I just didn’t— I should have stopped when you said.”

Yuri’s chin shifted. “No… I’m glad you didn’t. It… it felt really good. After I’d cried. Like… I was clean? Free? Like… I don’t know… like when your nose is clogged and then you sneeze and you can breathe again?”

Otabek raised his brow.

“Like that but with everything in my head and my chest,” Yuri finished, feeling dumb.

He started swiping his hair behind his ears, self conscious, and Otabek found his eyes locked on the golden strands, knife pausing in a crook of the wood. 

“You’re not mad I kept going?” Otabek asked.

Yuri shook his head. “I get hard when I think about it. That’s…. what I wanted from the start.”

“Me to hurt you?”

“To… use me?” Yuri frowned. “Does that sound terrible? I wanted you to — to do what you needed to do to me. It’s like…”

Yuri was silent for a long moment, long enough that Otabek wondered if he’d forgotten.

“Like, maybe if you’re completely in control of me I can finally let go,” he whispered at last. He made a face like the words still weren’t right, like even trying to articulate everything inside of him was the most momentous, Sisyphean task. 

“Something like that,” Yuri blushed.

Otabek cuddled the teen to his chest. “Yuri…” Something about the way he’d said it made Otabek ache. Made him want to protect Yuri to his dying breath. 

“You don’t have to do it again, though,” Yuri said, quickly. “If you didn’t like it. Yuuri said you’ve been distracted since that night, I don’t want you to have to worry ab—“

“Yuri,” Otabek cut him off. He let out a long breath. “I’ve been distracted because I _liked_ it.”

Yuri stilled in his arms. “You did?”

“I know it sounds awful. But I… I wanted to hurt you. I enjoyed hurting you. I even liked seeing you cry.” Saying it out loud, Otabek felt his chest start caving in from the shame. 

He couldn’t bear not knowing what Yuri was thinking, and his hands busied themselves with the carving once more, scraping at the wood and wedging chunks out from under Makkachin’s chin. 

Yuri set his hand on top of Otabek’s, quieting the motions. 

“So… we both really enjoyed it?” Yuri asked. “Even if we both felt embarrassed after?”

Yuri said it so simply, Otabek wanted to hug him all over again.

“I… yes?” 

The pair sat with that knowledge for a moment before Yuri’s mouth turned up in a small, enticing smirk. Otabek couldn’t see it, but he could hear it when Yuri spoke: “So… you liked being my Sir? Punishing your boy for disobeying your commands?” 

Otabek pressed his face into the back of Yuri’s hair, inhaling the sweat and shampoo scent. “Yes.” 

“You liked hurting me, showing me who my master is, until I cried?” Yuri continued. 

Again, a deep breath, warm over the tiny hairs at the back of Yuri’s neck, and Otabek’s teeth scraping over his skin. Then: “Yes.”

“You want to hurt me more?” Yuri asked, and he couldn’t prevent the tremble his own words evoked: the anticipation, the delicious darkness of it. The hand that had stilled Otabek’s carving traced down, following Otabek’s fingers until it danced along the flat of the blade they held. Yuri took the carving from Otabek and set it aside.

“If you submit to me,” Otabek said. “Only then.”

Yuri swallowed, and Otabek had been around him enough to know it was the lusting sort. 

Sensing his lover’s pleasure, Otabek steeled himself and continued: “Victor says you’re a very bullish sub. I need to keep you in check. Punish you when you disobey so you don’t get …unruly.”

He tapped the flat of his blade over the back of Yuri’s hand, tender and gentle enough to be a metallic kiss. And now it was Yuri’s turn:

“Yes,” Yuri whispered, almost inaudible. 

“Some subs get punished for pleasure, but I’ve seen you on the ice. You need to be pushed. Motivated. If the punishment feels too good you won’t learn. It has to hurt.” 

Slowly, Yuri rolled his hand beneath the blade, letting it glance over the meaty hill of his thumb and then rest on his pale palm. 

“Otchka… do you want to…?” Yuri asked, the implication clear as his middle finger curved down to touch the blade.

Otabek’s hand came up beneath Yuri’s, Otabek’s palm on the back of it, cradling it. His fingers slid between Yuri’s and then he squeezed them together, capturing Yuri’s digits between his own. As he pulled them back, it forced Yuri’s palm to stretch open. 

The flat of the knife roved slowly over Yuri’s skin, pressure increasing until the tip started to dimple Yuri’s flesh. 

“Hurt me,” Yuri whispered, entranced by the motion of the metal blade.

“You’ll bleed,” Otabek said. Not to dissuade. Not to reject. 

“I understand,” Yuri returned. His free hand brushed against Otabek’s wrist while he held the blade steady. “I’m yours. Do what you want with me.”

Another wave of warm breath on Yuri’s neck. 

“Hold still, Yurike,” Otabek said. He twisted the blade ninety degrees to face Yuri’s palm. 

His hold on Yuri’s fingers tightened, the only warning before the blade cut into the thick bump of thumb muscle near the bottom of Yuri’s palm. 

Yuri went taut, hissing, but didn’t pull away.

It _hurt_ and Otabek left the metal in his flesh for a heartbeat before pulling it away. A few drops of blood followed the blade to the surface, bright red, gleaming.

“Oh,” Yuri stuttered, dumbly, watching them trickle into the pool of his palm. 

“OK?” Otabek asked. 

“You… went inside me,” Yuri realized. He kept staring at his palm, half-stunned, and Otabek set aside the knife so he could hold Yuri’s hand in both of his own. He traced the outer edge of Yuri’s palm with a finger, swirling around that red pool in the center, while the other hand stayed cupped beneath Yuri’s. He massaged the roots of Yuri’s fingers, both gazing at the blood, until Otabek’s lips grazed Yuri’s neck and brought him back to the present. 

“Yurike,” Otabek said. “My soldier. My warrior. My boy.”

Yuri twisted in Otabek’s arms, holding his wounded hand carefully. “I love you. Thank you. I want this.”

He set his forehead against Otabek’s, eyes closed, and breathed. 

Felt. 

Hurt. 

Just right.

They went inside, clean hands clasped, and Otabek gestured Yuri to the couch. He brought over a warm washcloth, a bandage, antibacterial gel. Curled up in a ball, Yuri extended his hand into Otabek’s lap, and Otabek washed away the red. 

It was a sharp knife, a clean cut, and Otabek dabbed the antibacterial gel along the length before wrapping it. The cut was small, a centimeter, but it was starting to thrum to Yuri’s heartbeat and he loved that ever-present reminder of their intimacy.

“There,” Otabek said, kissing Yuri’s bandage. Yuri sat up, stretching and closing his hand, and then smiled bright to his lover. Otabek lifted an arm, welcoming Yuri into his embrace. Yuri wasn’t one to sit still, but he knew how much Otabek enjoyed cuddling. Holding. So he focused on his breathing, and then Otabek’s breathing, and relaxed into the proximity. Sank into it like a dream.

“My parents asked when I’d be moving back to Almaty,” Otabek murmured, and Yuri hadn’t realized he’d been drifting off. Otabek felt Yuri’s whole body freeze at those words.

“You’re… leaving?” Yuri asked once he was confident he could say it without his voice breaking.

Otabek stroked Yuri’s hair, kissed his forehead. “The opposite. I told them not to expect me. Not until next season, at the earliest.” He brushed Yuri’s hair back behind his ears the way Yuri always did when he was nervous. “My future, right now, is in St. Petersburg.” 

Yuri blinked, then rose up in Otabek’s lap, turning to straddle his lover. 

“You’re staying?”

“Of course I’m staying,” Otabek said, grabbing Yuri’s shirt collar and pulling him down to kiss. “What kind of master would I be to leave my boy alone?”

Yuri laughed, lips puckering into a dozen tiny kisses that he laid on Otabek’s mouth. “Or boyfriend, for that matter.” He cupped Otabek’s cheek with his bandaged hand. “We’re still boyfriends, too. I know that was important to you. I love submitting but I can take care of you the same as you take care of me.”

“I know,” Otabek said, leaning into Yuri’s touch.

“Watch,” Yuri grinned, gliding up from Otabek’s arms to stand in front of the couch. “I know what you like. I want to give you a day just for you.” He pattered to the kitchen and Otabek shook his head as Yuri bustled around, half-afraid the normally dependent teen would hurt himself. He wasn’t sure Yuri knew how to use anything in a kitchen besides a microwave.

“Yuri… what’re you doing?” Otabek finally asked.

“Don’t look! It’s a surprise!” Yuri growled. 

Sure enough, a few moments later Otabek heard the telltale whirr of the microwave. He blew air through his nose, bemused but fond, and browsed through his phone.

When Yuri returned he flicked on Otabek’s TV, logged in to his streaming account, and perused the movies available until he found an old cartoon favorite. He queued it up, only to be summoned back to the kitchen by the beep of the microwave. 

Popcorn. 

Otabek smelled it immediately but Yuri still fumbled around in the kitchen for another several minutes before he came out, looking immensely proud of his bowl of aerated corn. After fetching two big glasses of water, he sat down next to Otabek. Snuggling into his side, he presented his masterpiece. 

“It’s got little fruit bits and grated cheese!” Yuri announced.

Otabek blinked. “Fruit and cheese and popcorn?”

Yuri wagged a finger. “Try it!”

The look Otabek offered his boyfriend was troubled, but he dipped a hand in and tossed back a mouthful of the treat as Yuri pressed play on the cartoon. 

“That’s…. surprisingly good?” Otabek blinked.

“I knew my Otchka would like it,” Yuri boasted. He pulled back, took off his shirt, and then drew a blanket around his shoulders instead, creating a warm half-tent over Otabek with his body. The pair talked quietly over the cartoon, poking fun and trading childhood tales, and Yuri was fascinated all over again by how easy it was to fall deep into conversation with his partner. The popcorn vanished as they spoke, and eventually the discussion petered off and the pair just curled up together. Yuri made it halfway through the movie before he was asleep, and Otabek didn’t last much longer. 

— 

Yuri awoke long after the credits rolled, sun still afternoon-bright outside, happy to find himself in Otabek’s arms. When he stood to use the bathroom he groaned at the tension in his legs. He really shouldn’t have run so far. 

“Sore?” Otabek asked, blinking awake.

“Mmm. I wish we could go to the hot springs,” Yuri muttered, crossing to the bathroom. 

“…is that why Victor’s tub is so big?” Otabek realized.

Yuri hadn’t bothered to close the door and called back, snickering, as he relieved himself: “Ask him!”

He emerged a minute later to find Otabek looking at his phone with furrowed brow. 

“I wasn’t serious,” Yuri blinked. 

“He says we should come over and try it.” Otabek said, holding up his phone. Yuri yanked it and scrolled past Victor’s abundant emojis.

“Cordially invited to an evening of pampering and relaxation at Spa de Victor e Yuuri?” Yuri growled. “What _language_ is that even?” 

Otabek merely looked amused, tugging his phone back. “I’ll tell him no?”

“No!” Yuri jumped, then flustered. “I love that tub. If we can have that tub…” 

He pushed his fist into his palm before hissing at the bandaged flesh. 

“Tell him we’ll be there in at 18:00. And we want the deluxe package!” 

— 

When they arrived, the door was unlocked, and a little heart sticker by the handle said ‘Enjoy Your Stay!’. They walked in after a brief knock to find the apartment empty, only a path of rose petals leading to the bathroom. 

“What the fuck?” Yuri said, picking one up. “How did they get all this set up? These are _real_!” 

Otabek just shook his head. _Victor Nikiforov_. “You _did_ tell me to ask for the deluxe package…”

Yuri took off his jacket, hanging it up as he kicked off his shoes. “I just wanted that bath for you. Us.” Taking Otabek’s hand, he tugged him along the petal path, only to find more surprises in the bathroom. It was decorated in candles, dozens and dozens of them, some tall but most little tea lights. There were more petals in the bath, which was already drawn and bubbling with the jacuzzi jets. There was a bottle of bubble bath and an iced bucket with champagne in the corner, and another heart note: ‘Everything’s Better with Bubbles’. 

“Damn,” Otabek managed. 

“Chocolates!” Yuri eked after he’d finished blushing about all the work that must have gone into this. There was a little tray of chocolates: several individual truffles and a pair of chocolate covered strawberries. The note on this one: ‘You’ll Work Off the Calories!’

Yuri snorted, grabbing one of the truffles, and was about to pop it into his mouth when Otabek caught his wrist. 

“Strip,” Otabek said, easing the chocolate from Yuri’s fingers. Yuri pouted but complied, wiggling from his pants and underwear and lifting his shirt up over his head. He kicked them in the corner by the toilet and then stood stark and bare before Otabek, hands on his hips, smiling cocky. 

“Did I earn my chocolate?” Yuri asked, sliding his hand down his body. 

“You know you can’t seduce me like that,” Otabek countered, meeting all of Yuri’s confidence and then some. “Get in the bath.” 

Another half pout, but Yuri was determined now. 

“How am I supposed to seduce you, then?” Yuri asked as he settled on the edge of the tub. The porcelain was freezing but he didn’t dare let that show as he settled himself, curling up his toes to straddle the edge. The leg that was in the water thrummed, heat soaking into all his weary muscles. 

“Show me what a good boy you are,” Otabek suggested. 

Yuri snorted at the challenge, rolling his shoulders like he was about to disobey, but that was when Otabek came up to him, grabbing his jaw in one hand. He held the chocolate near Yuri’s lips, smearing the truffle against his pouting skin.

“Only good boys get treats.” Otabek released Yuri’s jaw. “Don’t lick it.” 

Yuri bared his teeth for a moment in frustration, then gave a huff of a breath before trying to turn demure. He bowed his head to his master, then slipped into the bath, staying near the edge as the water surrounded him. Kneeling, he bent until he was submerged to his shoulders and laid his cheek on the porcelain he’d occupied moments ago. 

“Yes, Sir,” Yuri murmured. 

“That’s better,” Otabek said, fingers caressing Yuri’s hair. 

Yuri sighed, fidgeting, wanting to sit up, to growl, to grab his Otchka and snap the truffle from his fingers. But he laid there, closed his eyes, focused on the feel of Otabek’s fingers against his scalp and the stickiness of the chocolate on his lips. 

“Relax,” Otabek reassured, hand dipping to feel the tension in Yuri’s neck, rub at the bulbs of his shoulders until he felt them soften. 

“Good,” Otabek praised. 

Yuri felt something against his lips, opened his eyes to see Otabek holding the truffle against them. His first instinct was to open his mouth and accept the treat, but instead he lifted his eyes to Otabek, hesitating. 

“May I eat it, Sir?” he whispered against the chocolate, feeling his lips collect more of the smooth coating. 

“Very good,” Otabek whispered, and Yuri felt that surge of pride. It sparkled in his chest, along with the weighted pleasure that came with giving away control to this man before him. “Yes. But keep it on your lips.” 

Yuri opened his mouth, curling his tongue around the truffle and tugging it between his teeth, mindful not to let his tongue swipe his lips. 

Victor and Yuuri definitely hadn’t skimped on the chocolate. Yuri’s life was a pampered one - he’d had plenty of decadent desserts before - but he still melted at the creamy texture and touch of hazelnut. He let the truffle sit in his mouth, melting against the ridged roof, before swallowing. Another swallow, to clean his tongue, and then he laved it against Otabek’s thumb and forefinger until there wasn’t a sign of the treat.

“Thank you, Sir,” Yuri said. He lifted his chin up, gazing at Otabek above him, and felt so very small. A shiver ran down his spine, into the water, and he sank deeper. 

Otabek gave him a nod, staying right next to the bath as he lifted his shirt up over his head, then pushed his pants down his legs. Yuri couldn’t help but stare at his Adonis, fingers pulling at the porcelain rim as Otabek’s body was revealed in full. 

Picking up the tray of chocolates, Otabek stepped into the tub, directly over Yuri. Yuri shied down to the water to make room, then shadowed Otabek farther into the tub. The whole thing was shaped like a square with one shaved-off corner that was a tiled ledge. Otabek set the treats there before lowering down into the swirling heat. Yuri savored the deep, pleasured exhale Otabek let out as the water enveloped him.

“Come here,” Otabek said, and Yuri chased towards him, keeping his bandaged hand above the water. Otabek reclined in one of the corners, jets washing over his lower back and shoulders, and Yuri happily straddled him.

“Is it OK if we touch like this?” Yuri asked as he lowered his weight, cheeks of his ass resting on Otabek’s thighs. Otabek pulled him into a proper straddle, and Yuri closed his eyes at the feel of their bodies pressed together. 

“Don’t grind. Don’t use your hands. Be good, and you can stay like this,” Otabek said, voice stern. Yuri nodded in all seriousness, never wanting to intentionally spook his lover. Getting to rest their cocks together was joy enough.

“So dirty,” Otabek mused, catching Yuri’s jaw. He twisted Yuri’s head to the left, then right, to observe the smears of chocolate on his lips. 

Yuri flustered, huffing, but Otabek didn’t let him stay upset for more than a moment. He drew Yuri against him with one arm, the other still holding his jaw, until he was kissing his boy. His tongue swirled over Yuri’s lips, then sucked the lower one in. Tongue and teeth combined to brush away the chocolate, stealing little tastes until Yuri was clean.

But he didn’t stop kissing. 

Yuri melted against Otabek’s body, returning the kiss with just as much affection. He found he was grinning against Otabek’s mouth, a normally rare expression for the aggressive teen, flooded with satisfaction and love and gratitude. He pulled back so he could look at Otabek, shake his head faintly at his luck. It was almost unbelievable that they’d not only overcome the fundamental difference in how they perceived pleasure, but found a solution that pleasured them both so much. 

“You’re so incredible,” Yuri whispered, cheeks red. “I can’t believe you chose me.” 

“Says the Russian superstar,” Otabek raised his brow. 

“Shhh!” Yuri pressed his fingertips to Otabek’s lips. He glanced over his shoulder with glaring suspicion. “You might summon Victor.”

Otabek snorted. His hand came around Yuri’s, kissing those sweet fingertips before pressing his thumb against the bandage, right above the cut. It made the wound throb and Yuri’s body go momentarily rigid.

“I’d make him get on his knees and repeat that you broke his record.” 

Well _that_ sent a weird electric zing through Yuri’s entire body. 

“You think you could dom him?” Yuri gulped, hand holding completely still in Otabek’s grip.

“Yes,” Otabek said, unflinchingly. 

“Why?”

Otabek shook his head. 

“Same reason I can dom you,” he explained. “You both want it.”

Yuri shivered at the thought, closed his eyes to imagine it, but Otabek brought him back with another firm press against Yuri’s cut. Yuri tensed, gazing at his master.

Otabek locked eyes with him, then grabbed another chocolate. He bit into it, watching Yuri’s beautifully arched body, feeling Yuri’s cock jump against his stomach as the jets whirled around them. His other hand slid into the water, rounded Yuri’s cheeks, and held Yuri’s body against his own. 

Yuri’s erection was trapped between them, running up the centerline of their lower abdomens. The urge to thrust was almost overwhelming, but Yuri stayed stock still, the only sign of that desire the occasional flutter of his glutes against Otabek’s palm. 

“You’re empty,” Otabek murmured as his fingertip ran the length of crevice between Yuri’s tail bone and his balls. 

“Mm,” Yuri said, resting his cheek on Otabek’s shoulder. “I can’t run with anything inside me. Not yet.”

“I could have filled you at my place.”

“Today’s supposed to be about you, not me,” Yuri said, kissing Otabek’s neck.

“But I like doing these things to you.”

His finger ran that track again, tail bone to balls, before homing in on Yuri’s asshole, rubbing the pad of his finger steadily against the wrinkly skin.

Yuri let out a more forceful breath than he intended, amazed at the effort it took to keep from clenching around that finger or pushing out to engulf it. The self restraint to _not move_ was overwhelming.

“Look how good you’re being,” Otabek noticed.

And then he popped a finger into Yuri’s body. 

“Aich!” Yuri yelped, surprised more than displeased, rising off Otabek but not dislodging the digit. 

Otabek didn’t say a word, just watched Yuri’s face as he added another. Yuri got a hold of himself and focused, relaxing and sinking down onto them, finally inviting them inside. 

“T-twice you’ve gone inside me today,” Yuri whispered, processing the fact that Otabek’s fingers were in his body, that Otabek was penetrating him with his own flesh and blood. He’d thought this was off the table, but maybe that had been a poor assumption. 

“You’re soft,” Otabek mused, and the subsequent finger wiggle that accompanied the discovery made Yuri gasp. 

“Please,” Yuri whimpered. 

“Please what?” Otabek asked. 

“I need — I — it’s not all soft…” Yuri turned bright red, glared at his embarrassment. “Can you… can you find the good spot?” 

A beat. 

“Where it’s firmer? Please, Sir?”

Otabek’s brow adopted a small furrow as his fingers explored his boy’s body. He watched Yuri’s face, but Yuri’s eyes were closed, turned inward, focused undoubtedly on what he was feeling. Otabek adjusted his grip, swiveled his fingers, and knew exactly when he’d found the right place. Not only did the texture change, but Yuri’s whole body quaked.

“There?” Otabek teased, pressing his fingers firmly against it.

Yuri nodded quickly, only to feel Otabek’s thumb dig into his wound.

“Yes, Sir!” he yelped.

“Good,” Otabek said. His head tilted, cheek pressing against Yuri’s. “Tell me what it feels like.” This, as he started a sensuous, slow glide of his fingers across that firmer stretch of Yuri’s innards. 

Yuri exhaled, hardly able to focus, overwhelmed by the feeling of his lover within him. 

“Like sparklers,” Yuri whispered. “Like winding a spring between my legs.”

His eyes closed and he pressed his nose against Otabek’s throat, calves clenching on Otabek’s thighs with a groan. “Like right before you leap.”

He wanted to hump down, but Otabek’s forearm against his hip was like an anchor, keeping him still. 

“I can’t feel the detail of your fingers, just the pressure they make inside me,” Yuri said. He gulped. “But I know I need it. Somewhere inside, nothing feels more right, and I want all of it.” 

Otabek’s fingers came out and Yuri couldn’t help the disappointment that crossed his face. Otabek seemed to sense it, turned and kissed Yuri’s cheek. 

Just as Yuri opened his mouth to ask about it, Otabek shifted. One hand wrapped around either cheek, and both of his index fingers slid into Yuri’s body in tandem. Before Yuri could even settle his weight onto them, Otabek was moving him, using the hook of his fingers inside to manipulate Yuri’s body. He lifted Yuri up and then pushed him back towards the edge of the tub, and Yuri had no idea what was going on until, without any warning or preamble, those two fingers inside him pulled his asshole open, right over a jet of water. 

Yuri choked as the hot fluid suddenly gushed against and into his body. He clung to Otabek’s neck with his bandaged hand, still trying to keep it above the water, but the other braced on Otabek’s hips, struggling to get his bearings as the jet rushed into him. 

“H-h-ho fuck,” Yuri groaned.

“Tell me how it feels,” Otabek repeated. 

“Warm!” Yuri said, because the temperature he could sense inside of him, the glowing, expanding heat. “It’s v-vibrating it feels like.” The jet swirled in its base, only occasionally flushing into Yuri, other times massaging his taint or cheeks. “It’s — ohh, Otchka. It’s _so_ much.” 

He hung his head, and Otabek relented, pulling out one finger and replacing it with the middle of his other hand, plugging Yuri’s body. He found Yuri’s prostate again and rubbed the way he had before.

“Can I make you come this way?” Otabek asked. 

“Probably,” Yuri said. And then, when Otabek increased the pace and pressure in response: “Yes!” 

Yuri couldn’t help it. His ass squeezed around Otabek’s fingers, begging, and Otabek had to steady Yuri. 

“Be good,” Otabek warned again. He lifted his free hand out of the water and swiped it on the towel. “Give me your hand again.” 

“Sir,” Yuri acknowledged, setting his bandaged appendage into Otabek’s palm. He watched Otabek take up his previous grip, ready to dig into the cut when Yuri was disobedient or distracted. 

“I…” Yuri blushed. How was he always so damn quick with Otabek? Why couldn’t he control himself?! “I need to come,” Yuri whimpered, something about the promise of pain and the pressure inside of him combining into an unstoppable wave of pleasure.

“Not in the tub,” Otabek warned. “Wait.”

“Please,” Yuri begged.

Otabek _pressed_. “Wait.”

Yuri winced at the flare of pain in his thumb, groaning, but those fingers! “Sir, I —”

Suddenly the fingers were gone.

Yuri gasped. 

“I said _wait_ ,” Otabek said. Yuri shivered, his body covered in little burning embers of desire, festering against his skin and between his legs. He glared at Otabek, unable to prevent the way his nostrils flared and his lips pulled back to show his teeth. 

In a slosh of swirling water and rose petals Otabek suddenly had Yuri pinned against the edge of the tub, shoulders up against the porcelain. 

“What happened to being good?” Otabek asked. 

“ _Make me_ ,” Yuri growled before he could stop himself. 

Another slosh of water. Yuri’s chest suddenly over the edge of the porcelain, ass in the air, and then: _SMACK_.

Yuri let out a shriek like a dog toy, latching onto the edge of the tub. Water spilled out, and neither of them gave a fraction of a damn.

“Count,” Otabek commanded, the calm in his voice making the power of his hold even more alarming. 

“No!” 

_SMACK_

“You’re getting five. But they’ll only count if you count them,” Otabek said. 

Yuri could handle this. He glared over his shoulder at Otabek.

_SMACK_

Yuri grit his teeth together. He could _do_ this. He struggled, but Otabek’s weight pinned him down against the cool edge.

_SMACK_

He let out a gasp. Oh, _fuck_ , Otabek wasn’t holding anything back. 

_SMACK_

Yuri shook, his ass tightening up to try and guard against some of the pain. His thighs were underwater, out of play, meaning Otabek’s hits kept coming down against the same stretch of skin.

_SMACK_

Yuri choked, feeling those tears in the corner of his eyes. He let out a whimper. He could _do_ this.

_SMACK_

He could _do_ this!!!

_SMACK_

“Please!” he finally begged. 

_SMACK_

“STOP!”

_SMACK_

Yuri felt the tears well up, pour out. 

“ _Stop_ ,” he whimpered. 

_SMACK_

Yuri stilled, the pain short circuiting so many things inside of him, and he finally hung his head, sobbing silently.

Some time must have passed, he was certain of it, while he cried, but the next thing he felt wasn’t the powerful hit of Otabek’s hand, but rather the slow glide of his fingers. 

Yuri gasped through his tears as Otabek rocked his two digits in and out of Yuri’s body, curling them at the end of each thrust to brush his prostate. Yuri was still grappled over the edge of the tub, unable to move away, and Otabek’s body was between his legs, preventing them from closing. He was at Otabek’s whim.

Yuri’s cries softened until he was draped limply on the porcelain, muscles in his ass slowly loosening to let Otabek have his way. 

“Are you going to count for me, Yurike?” Otabek murmured, and it was said with such love and tenderness that Yuri felt another sob leave him. 

“Y-yes, Sir,” he whimpered, broken. 

“Good boy,” Otabek murmured, kissing the back of his neck. 

The fingers came out.

_SMACK_

“One,” Yuri said, breathing sharply, throat warped from his cries.

Otabek slid his fingers back inside, rubbing reassurance into Yuri’s body, tendering that most sensitive place of his, answering every strike of pain with a moment of pleasure. 

Yuri’s muscles tightened again - not in apprehension of what was to come, but in enjoyment of what was currently happening to him. 

Then the fingers withdrew again. 

_SMACK_

“Two,” Yuri managed, his voice not cracking in the middle of this one. It hurt, but his Otchka had him, and now he had the fingers to look forward to. He spread his legs wider for Otabek, and his muscle kissed the air until Otabek speared it.

“I’ll teach you to obey me, Yuri,” Otabek murmured near his ear. “You won’t need to fight it.”

He found that spot, rolled his fingers against it, and then out again.

_SMACK_

“Three.”

Otabek let up some of his weight and Yuri stayed in place, all of the tension and anger gone from him, replaced by complete focus on Otabek, and his touch: the rough and the gentle. 

As Otabek massaged his prostate Yuri gently rolled his hips towards it. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice delicate.

“Yes.”

_SMACK_

“Four,” Yuri said, grimacing at the pain. He didn’t bother trying to get away from it. He waited for those fingers to fill him again, waited for the wonderful pressure, and carefully fucked himself onto the phallic things as soon as they were in him. 

His Otchka.

His Otchka was inside him.

_SMACK_

“Five!” Yuri said, because he was certain his ass was on fire. 

But that was it. It was done. He was done. 

He breathed, and Otabek swirled his fingers over Yuri’s asshole before pushing through it. The hand that had pinned Yuri down moved to the small of his back, circling over the area he used to guide Yuri when they walked. 

Yuri felt so relaxed. He hurt and he tingled and he was so aroused. 

Yet more than all of that he was relaxed. 

He kept himself bent over the ledge where Otabek had placed him, but curved his hips onto Otabek’s fingers to meet them every time they thrust.

“Stand up,” Otabek said, “and bend over.”

Yuri rose obediently from the water, his hands staying on the ledge, body bent ninety degrees. Otabek rose with him, grabbing a hand towel and cupping it around Yuri’s dick. 

“Still think I can make you come?” Otabek asked. 

“Yes!” Yuri groaned, widening his legs like all he wanted int he world was to get more of Otabek’s fingers inside him. They weren’t as long as Victor’s, but the things they were doing to him… 

“Keep pressing like that,” Yuri managed. “Please.” 

Otabek was thrusting at just the right angle, and his knuckles were hitting against the scalding pink skin of Yuri’s beaten ass with every thrust. The combination of sensations was heady, made Yuri swoon, and he could feel the tension rising all throughout his body, about to hit the breaking point.

“Can I come?” Yuri begged, urgently. “Please, Sir?”

Oh, _fuck_. 

“ _Please_!”

He wasn’t going to last, he wasn’t go to — 

“Come.”

— 

Yuuri found Yuri at his locker the next day, the younger Russian holding onto the door and staring blankly at the innards like he’d found Narnia. 

“Yuri? You’re all spaced out,” Yuuri noted. “I thought your time at the _spa_ would help get you focused.” 

“Somehow, parts of me are still sore,” Yuri huffed, startling out of his reverie. He gave Yuuri a glare. “I can’t believe you did all that for us!” 

“You know how Victor gets,” Yuuri laughed. “It was fun. _And_ we got to stay at that new hotel. Victor got us the penthouse suite. He wants to use it for your… test day.” 

Yuri’s eyes widened and he blushed. “Was it good?”

“You’ll love it.”

Yuri couldn’t keep thinking about this, or he’d have to jerk off before practice, and how many times had he come last night, anyway? Last night, as they’d added the bubble bath and opened the champagne. Last night, as they’d gone to the practice room to find the mats set up and the blankets made and several toys laid out for their perusal. Last night, as Otabek kissed his fiery cheeks and rubbed ointm—No! Stop! Stop thinking about that!

Yuri took a breath and closed the door to his locker.

“Oh! Are you okay? What happened to your hand?” Yuuri asked, spotting the bandage on Yuri’s palm. It wasn’t often that Yuuri got to see his counterpart grin like a teen in love, like an adorable infatuated first-timer. But Yuri’s smile at that question was so bright, so earnest, like his his heart was filled to bursting.

“Otabek,” Yuri said simply, then pranced out to practice.


	19. Assignments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I _completely forgot_ last chapter that we'd blown past the 1000 kudos mark. JFC y'all! I can't even imagine a thousand individual people reading my free time smut and enjoying it? That's bananas? Is this real life? Thank you all of you for going on this crazy ride.
> 
> Someone also asked that I create a collection for all the stories on this time line, so: [The S4 Collection](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Silly_Sweet_Serious_Sexy). Turns out you need pretty art and stuff for collections SO if any artists are interested in creating a banner, let me know [on tumblr](http://nomanono.tumblr.com/) or here! (Commission, obviously). 
> 
> OK! I think that's it. Sorry for the sloppy editing. Thank you again. AND ESPECIALLY THANK YOU FOR ALL THE FUN COLLAR TEST IDEAS. I'm overflowing with potential pairings~

Yuri was braced over the back of the couch, Yuuri railing on his ass and making him scream around Victor’s cock. They were all being terribly loud, even Victor joining in with a a set of far more vocal gasps and groans than normal. Their combined volume made it all the more surprising when Otabek jumped out of his seat with a roaring “HEY!” and held up his phone.

“Assignments!” he announced, because after he’d brought Yuri over to get fucked by the pair (Yuri needed it: it had been at least a week since he’d had a man in him and even with their nightly orgasm ritual the boy was starting to fray at the edges) he’d let them take the lead and sat back to watch and browse his phone.

“Fuck!” Yuuri bottomed out into Yuri, but was too close to coming to stop. Victor, on the exact opposite side of the spectrum, cared far more about skating than this one particular orgasm, and pulled his cock out of Yuri’s throat with a fond cheek pat to go to Otabek’s side. 

He looped an arm over Otabek’s shoulders, and Otabek moved the phone between them. Yuuri and Yuri were both too caught up in their rhythm to notice Otabek’s hand drop to Victor’s bare waist.

“Well?!” Yuri shouted, voice cutting out as Yuuri _slammed_ into him. 

Victor held up a finger, eyes scanning the names and locations. Yuuri grit his teeth as he tried to hold back his orgasm until the announcement, fucking into Yuri with shallower bucks of his hips. For all of the stretching Yuri had done, he was still deliciously tight, still pulsed and squeezed around Yuri constantly. Yuuri rubbed his hand over his rival’s back in gratitude for the sensation, then grabbed Yuri’s shoulder for better leverage and increased his pace and power once more.

“Yuuri and Otabek are together at Skate America,” Victor said. “Yurio, you’ve got Rostelecom solo, but you and me and Yuuri will skate in France. Otabek and I will be together for NHK.”

“Katsudon!” Yuri gasped in eagerness - both at the chance to skate against him and at the sudden ferocious nature of Yuuri’s thrusts. 

“Like that, Tiger?” Yuuri growled, trying not to think too hard about his assignments. Up against Yuri _and_ Victor? That didn’t bode well for his chances at the Grand Prix. Granted, Yuri’s body _had_ been changing and occasionally betraying him on the ice, but that wasn’t something Yuuri ever wanted to count on.

At least he didn’t have to worry about JJ.

“Who’s going to be on top in France, hmm?” Yuuri asked to distract himself, leaning over Yuri’s body. He’d switched his hold to Yuri’s waist, leaving crescent moon marks in red, but now he stretched across the younger skater, kissing his back.

“Me,” Yuri growled. “I’ll top you.” He cast a powerful glare Victor’s way, too. “I’ll top both of you.” 

Yuuri’s hand came down to smack Yuri’s hip. 

Victor slid away from Otabek, coming over to grasp Yuri’s jaw. He tsked softly: “You know that’s not how it works, Yurio.” He pulled Yuri’s mouth open, pressed his cock between those sweet lips again. Yuri glowered, looked for a moment like he was going to spit it out, but Otabek caught the expression and warned:

“Yuri. Be good.”

A blaze of fire spiked in Yuri’s eyes, but he opened his jaw the rest of the way and relaxed his throat as Victor aimed for it. He took a breath just before Victor cut off his air supply, and let the oxygen in his lungs fizz and grow stale as he suckled and swallowed the embedded flesh. Victor seemed to be focusing on his soft palate, like he was _trying_ to get Yuri to gag. Yuri focused on staying relaxed, managed to do so for an impressively long time before his gag reflex finally kicked in and he choked on Victor. 

“Not bad,” Victor said, pulling out to give Yuri a moment to recover.

That was the last thing Yuri wanted. He reached across to grab Victor’s hips and pull him close again, taking that long cock back between his lips, over his tongue, down his throat. He scowled at Victor, like don’t you DARE go easy on me again, and then his eyes flit eagerly to Otabek, hoping that his master was watching him be good. Otabek had been eyeing his phone still, but felt Yuri’s eyes and glanced up at him, giving him a nod of acknowledgment, if not immediate approval. 

Yuri grinned around Victor’s dick, widened his hips so that Yuuri could go deeper, and generally enjoyed the combined affections and attention of the other three men. 

He’d been grouchy that morning, getting mad at silly little things - or more mad than usual. He’d told Otabek he was fine, but Otabek had given him a side-eye, shook his head, and told him to grab his coat. When they’d pulled up to Victor and Yuuri’s place Yuri had blushed, and that blush only deepened when the pair answered the door and Otabek said, simply, “He needs to be used.” 

That was some time ago. 

Victor had gone first, something powerful overtaking him. He’d pushed down Yuri’s pants and slammed him against the door and fucked him right there, furiously, all said and done and over in a handful of minutes - if that. Then Victor had gone to shower, leaving Yuri to Yuuri, who’d taken the already well-fucked boy to the couch and undressed him for a more luxurious bedding. 

Yuri loved that. He loved leaking Victor’s cum and having Yuuri use it to slick up his cock. He loved feeling Yuuri slide into him: so slow and measured. And he loved how it grew over time, building up to what it was now, and how Victor had been so turned on by the sight when he came out of the shower that he’d put his dick right back into Yuri again - only mouth instead of ass. 

Victor wiped at the corner of Yuri’s mouth, rubbing away a drip of drool. 

“Enjoying yourself, Tiger?” Victor asked, noticing the way Yuri was starting to space out.

Yuri glanced up at him, then closed his eyes in pleasure as his tongue attacked the vein meandering under Victor’s cock.

“Mmm,” Victor praised him, less vocal after the assignments but still enjoying himself. His eyes were on Yuuri, watching the way he pummeled into the blonde teen between them. He’d also been softened by the assignments, but was regaining his momentum. 

Coming up alongside the group, Otabek brushed his fingers over Yuri’s puffed cheek. 

Yuri stirred, blinking up at his master, smiling proudly around his mouthful. 

“You certainly needed this,” Otabek said. His hand once again fell to Victor’s waist. Twice in a day. Victor glanced over at Otabek, head canting at him, asking. But Otabek kept his eyes on Yuri even as his hand brushed Victor’s back. 

“Is there anything else you want us to do to him?” Victor asked instead, pulling Yuri down completely on his cock, holding him there by the nape of his neck as that sweet throat swallowed and gulped him down. Otabek watched, contemplative, eyes roving the spitted body of his boyfriend.

“I like using my hand for discipline, but there were other options…” Otabek said. 

Victor’s eyes lit up. He gave Yuri a second to gulp down air and then started to use his face more as a hole, fucking into it with quick thrusts as his eagerness grew. Otabek’s hand felt every motion as it lingered around Victor’s waist. The connection had not gone unnoticed by Yuuri, who was laser focused on the two as he took care of Yuri’s opposite end. 

“The paddle, the crop, the flogger,” Victor nodded. “I’d forgotten we never tried those. I could demo them for you, on him.”

Yuri groaned, and when Victor pulled back he begged: “Please let me come first.”

He’d been hard since he woke up, even his usual morning orgasm only softening him for a half hour or so.

Otabek considered his boy. His arm finally dropped from Victor’s waist, moving behind the couch to where Yuuri was tirelessly driving into him. He felt under Yuri, grabbing his dick, then cupped his balls. 

“Otchka! I’m close - please -“ Yuri panted. If Otabek kept touching him, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. 

“A test,” Otabek said. He pulled out his phone, set it on Yuri’s back, and opened the stopwatch. “I’ll touch you for thirty seconds. If you can hold off, I’ll give you permission to come, and you can come again after the demo.” 

Victor loved games like these too much. The idea of the challenge made him pump quick staccato bursts into Yuri’s throat. 

“If you come before time’s up,” Otabek warned, “the demo becomes punishment, and you won’t get off at the end. You won’t be allowed to come for 48 hours.” 

Victor’s fingers went tight in Yuri’s hair at the same time Yuri’s ass cinched tight around Yuuri’s cock. Forty eight hours without an orgasm for a boy who was used to two a day? And clearly already in need?

“Ready?” Otabek asked, fingers fanning over Yuri’s back. 

Yuri grunted affirmatively around Victor’s cock, already trying to think of the worst images he could, anything to get his cock to go down as he felt Otabek tap the phone and then reach beneath him. Otabek’s hand formed a tight cylinder, and even if Otabek had almost no experience, it still felt like heaven. It was still Otabek, and if anything the lack of familiarity made the touch almost exotic - so different than what Yuri did to himself.

He whimpered helplessly around Victor’s cock, eyes looking up at Victor to beg, inaudibly, though he wasn’t even sure for what. Victor just gave him this charming look, blew him a gentle kiss, and Yuri had to close his eyes tight again. Victor was too beautiful. Too sexual. And the pair had too much history.

And Yuuri - dammit, Yuuri. Yuuri was making sure to hit Yuri’s prostate on every thrust. Yuri was a live wire, flashing sparks and so close to bursting. All three of his men were around him, pleasuring him. 

It must have been thirty seconds by now, right?

“Twenty seconds left,” Otabek said, and Yuri choked on Victor, because there was no way. 

All the chilling imagery he could think to come up with was suddenly enjoyable. He imagined being hit and loved it, he imagined needles and spikes, he imagined fire and ice, everything just became erotic and with a sob his body tightened up. 

_No, no, no!_

But his balls betrayed him. 

He spilled, shooting cum, completely embarrassed and ashamed for his lack of self control. The sounds of Victor and Yuuri coming after him - Victor making a home of his throat and shooting directly into his stomach and Yuuri depositing deep in his ass - were the smallest consolation. 

“Tsk,” was all Otabek said, and Yuri let out a soft sob of breath as Victor left his mouth. He slumped over the edge of the couch, knees no longer really wanting to support his weight. 

“I’m sorry, Otchka,” Yuri panted. 

“Did you try?” 

“Yes!” Yuri swore, even as he slumped to the ground at Yuuri’s feet. Yuuri collected his rival in his arms. “You went hard on me!” Yuri pouted to Yuuri. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri soothed, nuzzling Yuri’s cheek as he carried him to the practice room. Yuri usually loved looking at himself in the mirror wall, but today he turned away from his reflection, upset with his performance. 

“Right in the middle, Yuuri,” Victor gestured, and Yuuri set the Russian teen where instructed. 

Otabek had tossed the tissues from Yuri’s mess and now joined the three, curious as Victor busied about, pulling out bright red rope and some small clear plastic thing that made Yuuri shudder. 

“We’ll want your arms out of the way for this,” Victor said to Yuri. “Hold out your wrists.” 

Still wobbly, Yuri turned both his wrists up to Victor, eyes widening as Victor swiftly and elegantly sheathed them in cuffs of bright red rope. A carabiner clicked through the loops of rope between his palms, and then a much thicker loop of rope that someone - Yuuri - had lowered from a previously unseen pulley in the ceiling. Once Yuri was properly hooked up, the rope began to rise, drawing Yuri’s wrists with it. 

“Give him some slack, to start,” Victor told Yuuri. “Then we’ll get him on his toes once he’s warmed up.” 

Yuuri nodded, tightened the rope until Yuri could just barely stand flat-footed with his arms taut above him.

“Perfect!” Victor praised, then took out that little plastic piece and showed it to Otabek. “Shall I put this on him?” 

“What is it?” 

“Let me show you,” Victor said. He brought it to Yuri’s crotch, taking the softened worm of Yuri’s cock and balls and pulling it through a ring of plastic - or, now that Yuri felt it, perhaps it was silicon instead. There was a moment of fiddling, then a little cinch, and Yuri rocked his weight in momentary discomfort. Finally, something slid along the length of his shriveled dick, encasing it completely and then clicking into place with the larger ring. 

Victor stepped back and showed off his work. 

“You said he couldn’t come for forty eight hours, hmm?” Victor smiled at his work. “This will make sure he doesn’t.” 

Otabek stepped forward, grabbing the now compact bundle of Yuri’s cock and balls. 

“How does it feel?” Otabek asked. 

Yuri shook his head: “Like nothing.” 

Otabek pet the plastic, but Yuri’s didn’t react at all, except to knit his brow in confusion at the dissonance between seeing his cock get physical attention and not being able to feel any of it. 

Lastly, Victor handed over a little plastic nub to Otabek. 

“That’s the key,” Victor said. “Or you can break this tab in case of emergency.” 

Yuri tried to thrust against Otabek’s hand, but again, there was no reward whatsoever. He’d never experienced that: thrusting against something solid and not having the physical sensation of it. He pouted. Otabek pulled his hand away with another tsk and pocketed the key. Yuuri, in the mean time, had fetched the toys - a proper crop this time, too, instead of the ribbon. 

“Shall we begin?” Victor asked, and the other two nodded while Yuri contemplated his new predicament: strung up from the ceiling with his spent cock caged and inescapable. “Good. Now, these are the three classics: a crop, a flogger, and a paddle. Paddle can be anything - hairbrush, spatula, fresh fly swatter, the important part is a nice broad flat area for smacking. Yuuri, do you want to try this one?” 

“I’m not very good…” Yuuri admitted. “Perhaps Vic—“ 

“Katsu,” Yuri growled. “Do it.”

So Yuuri grabbed the paddle. Theirs was a thinner slab of polished wood with a sturdy handle wrapped in leather braids for grip. Yuuri tried to remember his little techniques: brushing the paddle along Yuri’s body to get him used to the feel, to build his anticipation. Then he worked up to tapping, like nudging the muscle of Yuri’s ass to see the ways they would jiggle in response. He slid the paddle between Yuri’s legs and widened them, which forced Yuri to go up onto his toes. 

“Can you hold that?” Yuuri purred, and Yuri glared in response. 

He was Yuri Plisetsky. Of course he could stay on his toes. 

“I’ll start gentle and work up. I like soft paddle hits the best, but hate actual spankings,” Yuuri said, making a face. 

“Victor punishes you?” Yuri blinked in surprise.

“We just do it for fun,” Yuuri said. “Or sometimes when I haven’t been focused in practice. He tells me it’s just like the temple.” Yuuri smirked over at his husband, shaking his head. “Once he even brought in a tree branch convinced we could turn it into a proper switch.”

“We wound up just buying one,” Victor grinned.

“Which I _hate_ ,” Yuuri huffed.

“But I love,” Victor sighed. “Not as much as the flogger though.”

“Shut up already!” Yuri growled. “Hit me!” He was getting anxious with the wait.

The next five hits were progressively harder, as promised. The first made heat rush up to the skin of Yuri’s ass, and by the final one Yuri actually screamed. When Yuuri stepped back, the young Russian had a nice pink rectangle across his ass cheeks to remember it by. 

“There,” Yuuri said. He touched Yuri’s ass, rubbing the cheeks, and startled when Yuri suddenly gasped and hitched in a whimpering breath. Yuuri had no idea why, but then there was a snicker from Victor as a long, spindly drip of cum emerged from Yuri’s ass. They watched his body try to tighten to keep it in, but that only made a larger dollop plop to the floor between his feet. 

He turned a bright, brilliant red.

“Is that all, Yuri?” Victor teased, ever fond. “Yuuri’s loads are usually a bit bigger than that.” Victor used a tissue to swipe up the mess on the floor, then held it between Yuri’s cheeks. “And I put one in you, too. Go on. Push the rest of it out.” 

Yuri was still too embarrassed for his body to loosen, but Victor soothed him, brushing his hip and whispering warm words. “This is exactly what you wanted to be used for, isn’t it, Yuri? Us taking our pleasure from you? Don’t be embarrassed. Your body made Yuuri and I feel so good we had to fill you up. It’s only natural for it to come out again. We can plug you next time so it stays in you longer, if you like.” 

As Victor spoke, pride overcame embarrassment and Yuri finally relaxed, opened. They all watched his body flex and the next moment another thick blob oozed out of his ass, into the waiting tissue. 

“There we go.”

Victor kissed Yuri’s pink-stained glute, then stepped back to toss the tissue away. When he returned, he had the flogger in his hand, and like Yuuri started by getting Yuri’s body used to the feel of the soft suede tassels. 

“This is my favorite,” Victor began, “because of how versatile it can be.” He threaded the flogger handle between Yuri’s neck and suspended arm, across his throat, and through the opposite hole. Ever so slowly, he dragged the tassels free, dozens of little suede kisses all across Yuri’s neck, collar bone, shoulders. The shudder that traveled through Yuri’s body was visible to everyone, and Otabek couldn’t help his curiosity. 

“Pain and pleasure,” he mused, and Victor nodded. He kept one hand on Yuri’s shoulder, grounding the boy, but his other began to swivel, wrist drawing simple figure eights with the flogger. He brought this pattern to Yuri’s back, hardly any pressure behind the hits, just warming caresses.

“Like this it’s not quite painful, just sensation,” Victor explained. “But over time it will still warm up his body, even make him sweat. Just have to be careful about your technique. My arm always gets tired long before Yuuri’s satisfied.” 

And then, just as he was bringing the flogger down again, he flicked his wrist, snapping the suede tendrils against Yuri’s shoulders. 

“Ai!” Yuri gasped, but his cock was filling the plastic cage, starting to hurt as it ran out of space to grow. And of course, there was nothing in return, no pleasure, no friction. Not even the casual brush of his thighs against his balls. There was _nothing_.

It was infuriating.

Victor went very lightly as he moved down Yuri’s back, warning Otabek to do the same, avoid the tenderest parts of Yuri’s body, and then skipped his pink ass in favor of striking his thighs until they matched. At this point, Yuri had been squirming at the various sensations with only his toes to support him. He kept having to adjust his pose, and more and more frequently he was slipping, having to rely on the rope to support him. 

Like Yuri, Victor gave two final hits that were far harder, for either cheek, and then set the flogger aside. 

“Why don’t you try the crop?” Victor asked Otabek. “As long as you start softer - softer than you think you have to - you can work up until you find a good pressure for his punishment.”

He held out the handle of the crop.

As Otabek took it, he pushed forward, sliding the soft leather tab along Victor’s inner wrist. Victor froze at the unexpected touch, but then turned his arm ever so slightly, offering his wrist to Otabek as the Kazakh drew the end of the crop gently back down his arm, palm, until it rolled off Victor’s fingertips.

Otabek gave him a look: one quick, lightning-strike glance of acknowledgment, and then turned his attention to his dangling boyfriend.

Distantly, Yuri knew that Otabek was hitting him, that Victor was holding him in place to take the hits because he couldn’t hold himself up on his toes anymore. He knew, distantly, that the touch of the crop was getting harder, that Yuuri was wincing in sympathy, and that Victor said something about being careful - about blood. 

But Yuri’s world, as his boyfriend took over his punishment, was a narrow tunnel of awareness around his caged cock, a sort of pulsating gap where normally so much pleasure was centered. He felt _good_ even as the strikes blossomed like firecrackers across his back, thighs, ass. Even as Victor caught one of his legs and stretched it out, bent it upwards, and Otabek cracked the crop against the bottom of his foot. That in particular might have made Yuri come, odd as it was, strange as it was, if it weren’t for the infernal contraption encasing his body.

That gap of feeling where normally there was orgasmic pleasure was otherworldly, made Yuri feel oddly detached from himself, separate from the experience that was happening to him. 

His other foot was struck, making his toes curl, making that sensitive arch scrunch up in a futile attempt to protect itself. Victor was holding him while he danced from the rope, and Otabek was getting rougher. The strikes had become a rhythm to the semi-conscious skater, pulsing through the haze and then letting him sink back into it. Pleasure and pain crashed over him like waves, but they weren’t building the way they normally did, weren’t cresting towards that ultimate storm, that ultimate pleasurable turmoil.

He wasn’t made to the count strikes, so he floated, feeling the different types of hurts, feeling the sudden intrusion as Otabek turned the crop around and slid the smooth handle into his body. 

Thrust. 

Thrust.

They were talking but Yuri couldn’t hear what they were saying. Calling him good? Was he good? He just wanted to be good for Otchka. He tried to stand again, to push his ass back, and he imagined Otabek inside of him: humping into it, finally getting to try the body that had been crafted for him over the past months.

Then he felt something else, vaguely: a stripe of hot liquid on his pink ass, a familiar tenor: Yuuri’s groaning cry of orgasm. 

They were getting off on his situation, his beauty, and all he could do was hang.

“Clean him,” he heard Otabek say, and it only penetrated his mental fog because of the sheer power it held, the unquestionable command. Hands grabbed his ass, holding it steady, and a tongue started roving over his burning skin, clearing the cooling trail of cum. Yuri knew who it was. Couldn’t see, was too lost for that, but knew who Otabek had commanded. Knew who was on their knees kissing his ass, licking it clean.

And the gap between his legs took all of that knowledge, all of that arousal, and turned it into unfulfilled nothing. 

He drifted.

“Yurike,” he heard his boyfriend whisper. 

Yuri’s shoulders were sore from being tied up. He wiggled them and found his arms tucked at his sides, a thick quilted blanket wrapped around him. 

“Mm,” Yuri responded. He realized his eyes were closed - had been, for quite some time - but didn’t have the strength to open them. 

“You okay?” 

That was Yuuri’s voice, and it was accompanied by a delicate cuddle, a tightness in the blanket’s embrace. 

“Mm.”

Yuri tried to nuzzle into the solidity. That void was still there, between his legs, that nothingness. Normally as his orgasm would fade he’d come back from this weird floating space, but there had been no orgasm, and he was stuck trying to pull himself out of it on his own.

“Drink.”

That was Victor, and there was the stopper of a water bottle pressed to his lips. Yuri opened his mouth and found the sudden surge of liquid rousing. He realized he was _parched_ and suckled hard, barely giving the plastic bottle enough time to crackle back to its original shape before the suction collapsed it again. 

He stopped when the bottle was empty, and Victor brought him another. 

By that time he could blink his eyes open.

Otabek and Yuuri were holding him, side by side, with him laid across their laps on the bed, and Victor sat on the edge, holding a cup of juice. 

“Juice,” Yuri said, and Victor brought it to his mouth. 

He’d never asked what type of juice it was - didn’t even want to know - but it was permanently tied to the memories the trio, and now quartet, had built here. This, too, he drank. 

“I’m still going to beat you at the Trophée de France,” Yuri said, abruptly, remembering the news that had interrupted their play. The assignments made the start of the season feel official. Training was going to get serious, on all fronts.

“You’ll try,” Victor smiled. 

“I’ll win.”


	20. Captive Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO UPDATES TWO DAYS IN A ROW? 
> 
> Still looking for artists to commission for a collections banner <3
> 
> Also, this goes out to all ye lovelies who requested some chastity belt play, and to [verity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity) for the beta! I'm sorry I took none of your advice :( It was really good I'm just lazy.
> 
> That said, there are FLASHBACKS in this chapter (I don't know that that's happened before). So... be warned. It's sorta confusing. Verity tried to make me fix it but. Like I said. 
> 
> Lazy.

Yuri drew the zip of his costume up over the curve of his ass, the small of his back, higher still. He switched hands and pulled it up to his neck, latching it into place. He twisted, examining himself in the mirror, feeling a flushness throughout his body. His hands ran down his sides, smoothing the luxurious, twinkling material, and then he turned to view himself in profile. 

It wasn’t obvious, the little bulge between his legs. His dance belt smoothed the contours, minimizing the bump, disguising the shape of the silicon.

He exhaled, all of his energy pulsing from that one point in his body, and the visual design of his costume matched. The sheer material drew attention to his angles and curves, a bold testament to his sexuality for his short program.

Victor had choreographed it for him, not long after that fateful knock and earnest demand for a different kind of coaching than Victor’s usual offering.

And now here he was, ready to show it to the world, the Rostelecom crowds filling the distant rink with cheers. 

He just hadn’t imagined it would go quite like this. 

> “There’s one more thing,” Otabek said in the airport, just before he surrendered Yuri through security to fly to Moscow. “Come here.”
> 
> Yuri had his skates and costume in his roller bag, was about to bring them with him, but Otabek shook his head and handed them off to Yakov. The coach gave his normal indignant glare as Otabek tugged Yuri away.
> 
> “Where are we going?” Yuri asked, following after his boyfriend. Otabek glanced down at him, flashed a reassuring and promising half-smirk, and nodded him towards a side hall. At the end of a long walk there was a disused family bathroom, which Otabek ushered them into. Locking it behind him, he pulled Yuri into his arms and offered the boy a crushing kiss. 
> 
> It was the last thing Yuri had been expecting. 
> 
> And it _lasted_. Then Otabek’s hands were at Yuri’s waist, fishing under his jacket and hoodie to reach the too-tight jeans. Yuri gasped as Otabek jerked down the zip and popped the buttons, pushed them far enough down Yuri’s legs that he could cup Yuri’s bare cock. 
> 
> “You’re mine,” Otabek said, and Yuri groaned in affirmation, bracing himself on Otabek’s sturdy chest. “And I want you to remember that.” 
> 
> Yuri didn’t even see Otabek pull it out of a pocket, just felt the sudden tightness around the base of his cock and balls and then the cinch and glide of the sleeve. He looked down to find himself ensnared, and Otabek clicked the lock closed. 
> 
> Yuri tried to protest but Otabek put a hand over his mouth, gazing down into his lover’s eyes. 
> 
> “I want you to wear it for as long as you can,” Otabek whispered, kissing Yuri’s nose, feeling Yuri’s breath wash hot over the top of his fingers. “Know that I’m with you. Controlling you. No matter how far away you are.” 
> 
> His other hand reached between Yuri’s legs, held that caged bundle. “This is mine. _You_ are mine. You don’t get to come unless I allow it. Even if you have to take it off, no orgasm. Do you understand?”
> 
> Yuri gazed up at his lover, master, feeling those commands lace through him like an electric current. He stared into the stern black-brown of Otabek’s eyes and finally nodded. Otabek pulled his hand off of Yuri’s mouth. 
> 
> “Yes, Sir,” Yuri said. 
> 
> Otabek nodded. “Good. I’ll see you in a few days.” One single, tender stroke of Otabek’s hand through Yuri’s hair. “Now get dressed. You have a medal to win.” And he smacked Yuri’s ass before sliding out the door.  
> 

Yuri took to the ice for warm ups, landing his quad with ease and arm raised. He’d practiced with the device on before, of course, though never with this much pressure on his shoulders. That first forty eight hours had been the worst, had nearly broken him, but he’d gotten so much better with time. 

> “I want you to wear it while we’re gone,” Otabek said. 
> 
> He locked Yuri into it the morning before his and Yuuri’s flight to Skate America. Victor would come along as Yuuri’s coach, of course, and Yuri had been pouting about being left alone. Not that there was anything to be done. Yuri needed to stay and practice for Rostelecom, and they all knew it. 
> 
> When they were gone Yuri went straight to the ice, taking out his loneliness on the slick surface, somewhat used to the effect the silicon had on his performance. Ironically, it had the biggest impact on his turnout, forcing his hips to widen, and Lilia actually took note of his posture improvement. It made his hips flex outward even as his leg stretched behind him, perfecting his arabesque and spread eagle. 
> 
> Night, though, was harder than it had ever been. Every time he’d been in the device before, Otabek had been there to sooth him and distract him, to give him kisses when he really needed it and gently caress his inner thighs, like that almost-sexual touch might help abate some of the volcanic pressure inside of him. Now, there was no one else, and Yuri laid on his back in his own bed, surrounded by cold sheets and this damned silicon that held him prisoner and prevented any pleasure. 
> 
> His dreams were filled with sex. 
> 
> He woke hard and showered, taking care to soap his trapped skin. After, he sat in his towel, grumpy about the lingering water in the device, and finally opted to try a hairdryer to help remove the extra moisture. 
> 
> That led to an interesting discovery — that he could still sense temperature through the casing. The dryer’s warm air curved through the sanitation slot at the end of the sleeve and licked at his cock-head. He held the hairdryer to that thin slot and warmed his junk, like some fucked up half-masturbation, in fascination. Eventually his cock expanded to fill the sleeve, and only that tiny stretch of skin against the slot felt any sort of pleasure. 
> 
> It stopped being satisfying at that point, but reminded Yuri abruptly of the club: the way Yuri had flicked his tongue into the diminutive lips of Victor’s cock. 
> 
> He had a cotton swab before he knew what was happening, buzzing with anticipation and the burning, condensed, molten core of sexual need that had built up since Otabek snapped him into place and cut him off from satisfaction. 
> 
> He brushed the soft fluffy swab across the skin peeking against the sanitation slot, caressing the tightly closed lips at the tip of his cock, and shuddered. He started to wiggle the swab, put some pressure on it, to see if he could get the slit to open, but the swab was too thick. 
> 
> With a growl of frustration, Yuri pulled it away and picked the cotton off the end, stripping it down until it was just the naked plastic. This time, when he pushed it up against the head of his trapped cock, against the slit that led into his body, it started to open. 
> 
> And _fuck_ did it burn! 
> 
> Yuri pulled back when he’d only gotten maybe a millimeter in.
> 
> He needed lube. 
> 
> But the lube was in the bedroom, so he found the petroleum jelly behind the bathroom mirror instead and swiveled the bare end of the cotton swab through it. 
> 
> He paused as he sat back down on the toilet. Fuck, was he really going to do this? Was he really going to fuck his cock out of desperate need for sexual gratification? 
> 
> _Yes_.
> 
> He brought the lubricated end to his cock slit again, which was made more difficult by the fact that he’d softened somewhat, back into the silicon case, and his foreskin was almost entirely concealing the hole. Still, the device was clear plastic, and he could navigate the swab towards the tip well enough visually. The kiss of slick plastic on his most sensitive skin made him hesitate, then grit his teeth as he slipped the very very end between those lips and in. 
> 
> “O- oh….” He gasped as he felt it enter his body. It was so _strange_ , but the constant fog of arousal made it feel like heaven. In the back of his head he felt foolish, sitting on the toilet, fucking a cotton swab into the tip of his dick, but on the other hand…
> 
> He eased it in and out a few times, no more than a centimeter deep, and then watched in fascination as he started to get erect again. His trapped cock had nowhere to go, so as it thickened with blood it actually forced itself onto the cotton swab. It was like a fleshy monster, impaled up the length of the plastic skewer until his cock had completely filled the case again. 
> 
> Yuri still wasn’t sure if he even liked the sensation, but it was _sensation_ and he’d been deprived of it for so, so long. 
> 
> He pictured Otabek in his head, holding the cotton swab. Otabek always liked to fuck him hard. Whenever Otabek commanded him to fuck himself with one of the toys, and especially when Otabek took over and held the base of it himself, he was always eager to plunge it deep and fast into his boy. He loved pushing Yuri’s limits. 
> 
> So Yuri imagined him doing that now. He held the plastic cage steady and with his other hand started to quickly thrust the cotton swab into his cock, each time trying to make himself take it a little deeper. 
> 
> Did it hurt? Did it feel good? 
> 
> He didn’t even know anymore, but he kept fucking himself with it, only pulling out to swivel more lube onto the length before he stuck it back through his slit. 
> 
> He had just enough time to think: “It’s almost like I’m a girl, getting fucked like this,” before he was coming. 
> 
> Ripping the cotton swab out of his dick, he watched the cum shoot into the toilet, nicely aligned with the sanitation slot thanks to his fucking. 
> 
> And immediately after he came, immediately as that sweet relief flooded his system and cleared that impenetrable fog, he was overwhelmed with guilt. 
> 
> _I came. I’m sorry._ He texted Otabek. 
> 
> Then more guilt!
> 
> Shit. What time was it where Otabek was?! He hadn’t even thought about that when he texted! Otabek was prepping for his performance and Yuri texted this shit to him?
> 
> Fuck! What had he been THINKING!? 
> 
> _Bad boy._
> 
> Yuri stared at Otabek’s text, blushing bright. 
> 
> _Ten strokes when I get home. No more coming._
> 
> Yuri felt his blood sizzling to the surface of his skin. He’d let down his master! 
> 
> _Yes, Sir._
> 
> _Good. Go to practice, Tiger._ Otabek texted, and he added the tiny tiger emoji that Yuri had come to adore. Seeing it was like a little code; it let him know everything was OK. Yuri was ashamed of his lack of self control, but Otabek would punish him and make it right. They’d be fine.
> 
> And he didn’t dare come again until Otabek came home with his silver.  
> 

Yuri stood in the bathroom, taking slow breaths, his pre-performance music pounding in his ears. This was his last chance to take off the device. He slid his hands down the decorated spandex again, inhaling, exhaling, debating. 

They’d always said the ice came first. They’d always said this should never affect their careers. 

He was terrified, but turned on. He’d never had so much energy.

“Yuri!” Yakov flailed at him in the mirror, and even if Yuri couldn’t hear him he knew what Yakov wanted. He was up next.

With a growl Yuri pushed back from the mirror, clomping out alongside Yakov to the edge of the ice. He didn’t bother watching the routine before his, just stared to the side. He took off his skate guards, thinking of Yuuri, took off his Russian jacket, thinking of Victor, and finally took to the ice, thinking of Otabek.

He pivoted to a stop in the middle of the rink, taking up his starting pose. Energy thrummed through his body, in every limb, along every bone, from the crown of his styled hair to the point of his toes. It swirled around that vortex of sensation between his legs, but all of the need, all of the desperation, had dissipated into pure and utter calm. 

> “Calm down,” Otabek hushed him as Yuri tossed and turned on the couch, fidgeting constantly, crossing and uncrossing his legs, grimacing as his glutes tightened and released. 
> 
> “I can’t think about anything else!” Yuri groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes. It was ridiculous, really. He was an adult. He shouldn’t have to come twice a day to continue functioning, but it was the second night of his first time in the cage, right when Otabek normally filled him before bed, and he was going absolutely crazy. 
> 
> “You’ll be fine,” Otabek said, pulling Yuri across his lap. “No one ever died from not coming.”
> 
> Yuri growled, humping at Otabek’s leg even though he knew it was futile. 
> 
> “Hey, no,” Otabek flinched, a hand on Yuri’s back to stop the motions. Yuri realized he’d crossed a line and shirked back, frowning. 
> 
> “Sorry! I wasn’t thinking,” Yuri said, sour at himself. “Are you okay?”
> 
> “Yeah,” Otabek said after a breath. “Just… don’t do that.”
> 
> “Sorry,” Yuri said again. Then he crept back to Otabek’s side, leaning his cheek against Otabek’s shoulder. “It didn’t do anything for me, either, if it makes you feel better?”
> 
> Otabek snorted, wrapped an arm around Yuri and wrestled him onto his back. Yuri squirmed and groaned.
> 
> “Otchka! You’re just turning me on more!” 
> 
> Another snort, and the touches changed from aggression to gentler touching. They started kissing, and Yuri was moaning into Otabek’s mouth in less than a minute.
> 
> “I have an idea,” Otabek realized, pulling back. He set Yuri to the side and got up, walking to the closet. “I was waiting to give this to you. Maybe it’ll help.” 
> 
> That got Yuri’s attention.
> 
> Otabek pulled out a stack of fur and a long tail. Yuri was excited to see his kitten costume but confused as to the gift. 
> 
> “Let’s get these on you first.” 
> 
> As if Yuri would ever object to that. He held still while Otabek affixed the ears, even giving Yuri’s scalp a few loving scratches beforehand. Then Yuri held out his hands one by one for Otabek to lock into the gloves. 
> 
> “Do I get the tail?” Yuri asked, lighting up. 
> 
> “You still can’t come,” Otabek warned. 
> 
> “I understand.”
> 
> Otabek eyed Yuri, worried that the internal stimulation would overwhelm his kitten, but Yuri had that look of determination that meant he wouldn’t be stopped. “Bend over.” 
> 
> Yuri promptly turned around on the couch, kneeling with his hands braced on the back of it. Otabek went to the bed for lube and then returned to Yuri. He started with his fingers, even if Yuri didn’t need it, sliding two of them into Yuri’s ass and thrusting a few times to loosen him. 
> 
> “I’m ready, Otchka,” Yuri purred over his shoulder. “Put it in me.”
> 
> Without further prodding, Otabek dripped a puddle of lube onto the plug, then rubbed it in until the material glistened. Yuri’s body reached for it, only looking slightly stranger than normal for the plastic silicon that held his cock and balls out of the way. The plug disappeared into Yuri’s body, sucked in greedily, and Yuri let out a satisfied groan to be full again. 
> 
> He’d missed that. 
> 
> “Now, the gift,” Otabek said.
> 
> Yuri clenched his ass and flicked his tail side to side, testing it out before promptly curling up on the edge of the couch and watching Otabek move. When Otabek pulled _more_ white fur from the closet Yuri sat up, suddenly filled with anticipation. 
> 
> “Foot,” Otabek commanded, holding out a hand. Yuri extended one leg, unable to do so without automatically pointing his toes. Otabek dropped a kiss on his ankle, then slipped the fur on. It was like a little white fur slipper, pink pawpads on the bottom but instead of the realistic rubber they looked like soft suede, capped of course in the same acrylic nails as the paws. There was elastic inside to clutch his foot, just like a ballet slipper, and the same locking mechanism as his paws that clicked into place around his ankle. 
> 
> After the click Yuri bent his knee, twisting his foot left and right to study it, curling and uncurling his foot. The fur continued over his heel and the arch of his foot, only the ball - where the pawpad was - designed to touch the ground
> 
> “You have to walk on your toes to make it look right,” Otabek said, grabbing Yuri’s other foot and sliding on the second slipper. When he was done, Yuri got up without a word and padded around the apartment on the balls of his feet, grinning like a fool. 
> 
> “We got them from the same person who did the rest of your set, so everything matches,” Otabek said. Yuri glanced up at the word ‘we’ and Otabek clarified: “Victor paid for them. Again. I forget whose idea it was, originally, but Yuuri wanted them molded around ballet slippers.”
> 
> That made Yuri blush, and he padded over, perfect little kitten, to snuggle into the broad chest of his lover, oozing gratitude. 
> 
> “Thank you,” he whispered. They weren’t strict about staying in character on nights like this, less delineation between scene and not. 
> 
> The fur slippers were ludicrously comfortable, and Yuri stepped back from Otabek to give them a proper test. He set himself in fifth position, arms coming up to first. He stretched his right leg forward in _tendu_ , then raised it up, up, to _rond de jambe en l’air_ , swirling it all the way behind him in a tediously slow arc. Otabek knew enough from his failed time at the barre to be impressed, as always, with Yuri’s form, especially as he brought his foot down and went into a series of tiny jumps - _saut de chat_ , Otabek realized, shaking his head at Yuri’s pun - before a _grand plié_ back to first. 
> 
> “ _Mon petit chat_ ,” Otabek smirked, grabbing Yuri’s waist and lifting him off his feet, then up over his head. Yuri weighed nothing, a feather for Otabek to toss in the air, or in this case, over his shoulder. 
> 
> Yuri let out a teasing mrowl, then clung to his lover as he was brought to the bed and laid out. Otabek crawled in beside him and the next moment they were kissing, arms and paws in hair, cuddling, caressing. 
> 
> Calm. 
> 
> And Yuri never even noticed his cage.  
> 

As Yuri glided off the ice to screaming applause he felt that same sense of calm, that same perfect coolness. He was panting, all of his energy used up in the jumps of his short program, but serene in a way he’d never quite felt before this year. 

He’d never been truly satisfied, never had everything that he needed. 

_Aced it_ , Yuri typed into his phone on the way to the kiss and cry. They’d started a group chat, the four of them, under the guise of planning dinner one evening, and it had swiftly grown into a catch all for their collective, endearing, and salacious conversations.

_PB! PB! PB!_ Victor texted, surrounded by confetti emojis and fireworks. 

_SUGOI!_ from Yuuri.

And from Otabek, a simple heart.

Yuri sat between Lilia and Yakov, drinking from his water bottle, hand unconsciously close to the plastic hidden beneath his dance belt. He couldn’t believe how far he’d come.

> The final day of his initial forty-eight hour punishment, Yuri was beyond miserable. He went through the entire morning at the rink and all of his exercises wearing that insufferable piece of plastic while his body did its best to sabotage him out of sheer desperation to orgasm. 
> 
> He was doing so poorly Yakov made him keep practicing into lunch. This turned out to be a godsend because it distracted Yuri from the time, but he was furious all the same. When he finally went to the lockers during break, he was startled to find the other three waiting, Otabek dangling the little plastic key between his fingers.
> 
> “Come,” Otabek said, taking Yuri’s hand, bringing him to the final, disused horseshoe of lockers where Yuuri kept his things. 
> 
> Victor leaned against the wall, nonchalant, a silent lookout in case anyone tried to come their way.
> 
> Safely away from prying eyes, Yuuri grasped Yuri’s hips, holding him still as Otabek drew down Yuri’s track pants and underwear. Yuri struggled for a split second before he realized what was going on, then went still, even widened his legs to assist them.
> 
> Otabek grabbed the plastic, slipping the key into the hole and twisting until it clicked. He wiggled the casing free, sticky with sweat, and then pulled away the loop. His hand was the first thing to touch Yuri in two days, sliding around the bundle of cock and balls as the former rapidly hardened to its full size. 
> 
> Yuri cursed some quick prayer of relief in Russian, sinking against Otabek and listening to the sound of Yuuri pushing his own pants out of the way. By leaning forward into Otabek Yuri could bend his spine and stick his ass out towards Yuuri, the very definition of eager. The Japanese skater spat into his hand, then Yuri felt cool wet on his ass, and the next moment the push of Yuuri’s cock. 
> 
> “Oh, yes, yes,” Yuri groaned. “I can come now?” He asked Otabek, because he was seconds away from it already.
> 
> “Yes,” Otabek said. “You did so well.” 
> 
> Suddenly the forty eight hours of pain were worth it. Yuri saw that cherishing pride in Otabek’s eyes and all the world was right again. 
> 
> “Victor,” Otabek called, wagging his free finger to summon the Russian. 
> 
> This wouldn’t take long. They’d be safe. Victor left his perch and came up alongside Otabek, only to have the Kazakh set a heavy hand on his shoulder. 
> 
> “Down,” Otabek murmured, pressing. “Open your mouth.” 
> 
> Victor stilled for a moment, knees locked not in resistance but because he hadn’t thought to soften them yet and his brain had started stuttering at Otabek’s command.
> 
> “Vika,” Yuuri said, watching the exchange. His voice had an unusually stern, dark tone to it. “I don’t want a mess.”
> 
> There was a sudden pink tinge to Victor’s cheek, and he allowed Otabek to push him down to his knees in front of Yuri. 
> 
> Yuri’s cock had a scent and musk to it from the cage, but Victor opened his mouth regardless and kept it open as Otabek guided Yuri closer. Yuuri wasn’t going gentle on his counterpart; the cock bounced and pivoted from Yuuri’s thrusts, hard to keep in place before Victor’s maw.
> 
> “I’m —” Yuri started, but he didn’t even have time to finish before his body shuddered. 
> 
> Victor caught everything. 
> 
> It was a lot. 
> 
> Yuri’s body was used to a much more frequent pattern of release, and all of that had been stored and built up inside him. It coated Victor’s tongue and slipped into the nooks of his teeth and slopped into the crevices of his gums. It kept going, and when it was over Otabek wiped the tip on Victor’s lower lip. 
> 
> Only then did Victor swallow, swirl his tongue through his mouth to clean it, swallow again. 
> 
> Otabek gazed down at him, bringing another flush of pink to Victor’s cheeks. Then Otabek held out his hand, helped Victor up, looped an arm around his waist.
> 
> “Good?” Otabek asked. 
> 
> And Victor let out a breathy laugh, washing his hand through his hair. “Mmm.” He dared to lean into Otabek, testing the physicality of their relationship, and Otabek welcomed it. Victor’s hand moved from his own hair down to Yuri’s, petting the boy as Yuuri tried to finish himself off, but he was having a hard time coming so quickly. 
> 
> It was Yuri who finally decided to do something about it, reaching down towards Victor’s skate. 
> 
> “Give me a guard,” Yuri cursed, words shuddering from the motion inside him. Victor blinked, but lifted one of his skates and took off the guard, floating the blade in the air. He watched Yuri reach behind Yuuri, brushing the skate guard along the cheek of his ass and then into the crack. 
> 
> Otabek, unaware of Yuuri’s fetish, stared in complete confusion as Yuuri suddenly groaned and picked up his pace.
> 
> The guard was used, dirty, but Yuri let the hook of it brush over Yuuri’s ass anyway, grab at the muscle there. 
> 
> “Come on, Yuuri,” Yuri grunted, arms still braced on Otabek. “ _Davai!_ ” 
> 
> He licked his lips, glancing back at his lover, and smirked. “Remember how he kissed your skate? Back before you knew he loved you? Remember thinking —“ 
> 
> “Yuri!” 
> 
> “— How much you wanted him on his knees?” 
> 
> “That was a s-s-secret!” But Yuuri’s voice choked at the end and he bowed over Yuri, ass squeezing around the guard as he came. Yuuri hovered there for a moment, a few involuntary thrusts as his orgasm faded, and then sighed as he pulled out. 
> 
> Once Victor clicked his skate guard back on, he distributed wet napkins to the two sexed skaters. A small plug appeared from nowhere, pressed into Yuri to keep him from leaking during practice. 
> 
> Pants were drawn up. 
> 
> Kisses exchanged. 
> 
> “I’m sorry I told your secret,” Yuri whispered against Yuuri’s lips. “I didn’t know it was one.”
> 
> “I guess Otabek can know,” Yuuri blushed, glancing at the Kazakh. 
> 
> “ _Skate guards_ , huh?” Otabek raised his eyebrow. 
> 
> Yuuri blushed. 
> 
> “You should see what they look like inside him,” Yuri grinned, prancing to his boyfriend, all smiles now that he’d gotten his relief. It was almost frightening to see Yuri so happy, his normal scowl nowhere in sight.
> 
> Otabek looked bemused at the suggestion, then set a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, squeezing. “Makes sense, loving the ice.”
> 
> And that did _nothing_ to help Yuuri’s blush. 
> 
> “Come on,” Victor said, looping his arms around all three pairs of shoulders. “Back to it.”  
> 

Yuri stared down at his skate guards as his score was announced.

“A new personal best for Yuri Plisetsky and only three tenths of a point shy of Yuuri Katsuki’s world record!” the announcer proclaimed. 

_Dammit, Katsudon!_ Yuri growled. Yuuri had been so _humble_ about it, too, when he came back from Skate America with his new WR. 

But that was OK. 

Yuri would do better. 

He stood, feeling that excitement thrumming through him once more, swirling around and around his groin like a whirlpool. 

Two more days until he could release. 

Plenty of time to use that energy for a world record tomorrow.


	21. Making Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1,111 Kudos. 
> 
> 100k+ Words. 
> 
> This chapter is a little nothing, a silly response to a comment, a tiny interlude in our super sexy times. 
> 
> This chapter is a thank you to all of you for sticking around, for staying strong, for leaving your lovely notes. 
> 
> 1111 is my lucky number, so here's right back atcha to all of you!

"Victor! Go... go be a coach, OK?" Yuuri said, and he even had the smallest huff to go with it, something he surely picked up from Yuri. Victor had been fawning on him all day after the free skate, something Yuuri normally cherished, but he’d been wanting to spend time with Otabek. 

Alone.

"Yuuuuuuri," Victor whined, arms snared around Yuuri's neck, "don't you need meeee?" He rubbed his cheek back and forth in Yuuri’s hair while the cameras snapped, and Yuuri groaned.

“Go! Do your… your coach stuff!” Yuuri commanded, straightening up and pointing Victor towards where Celestino and Yakov were chatting in a loose circle.

Victor gave his very best pout, but Yuuri shook his head, repeating his gesture somewhat more emphatically.

“Go on, go!”

When Victor finally relented, Yuuri turned to Otabek, blushing and running a hand awkwardly through his hair.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey." Otabek watched the notoriously anxious skater try to get a hold of his blush. Otabek stepped in to save him: “Nice work on the ice.”

“Oh! I— thank you,” Yuuri floundered. Now that he was finally talking to Otabek, he realized he’d completely forgotten any and everything he wanted to talk about. Yuri? Probably? 

While Yuuri had his deer-in-headlights look, Otabek took the reins again.

“Yuri and I never really got a chance to thank you for what you did, by the way.”

"Huh?" That wasn't what Yuuri had been expecting.

"He talks about you a lot," Otabek went on, almost as if Yuuri hadn't said a thing. "But that night was special to him. To us. And..."

Otabek tilted his head, trying a few different phrasings in his head before he found one that worked.

"We'd like to do it again, some time, only....  _with_  you."

Yuuri's blush darkened.

"With me?"

Otabek laid an arm around Yuuri's shoulder, perfectly platonic for anyone who might be watching, though Victor had stolen most of the cameras away. Otabek lowered his voice. "It was a lot to ask. You did it anyway. We're grateful for that. But you love him too, and you should be there for it - not invisible."

Yuuri lifted his shoulders against Otabek's arm, a publicly-acceptable show of affection when all he really wanted to do was throw his arms around the Kazakh and squeeze.

Otabek continued: “I’ll hold him, cuddle him, while you take him. We can both kiss him. It'll be... more like he's making love to both of us.” It was just a few simple words, but it filled Yuuri’s head with the most delicious imagery. 

"He'll love that so much."

Otabek's eyes lightened, one of those rare almost-smiles.

“Yes,” Otabek agreed.

Victor's head suddenly popped into the space between theirs.

"Yuuri, it's too boring," Victor whined, only to realize the two were clearly in the middle of something. "Ooooh, what did I interrupt?"

Yuuri laughed, kissing his husband's cheek. "Otabek was just giving me something to look forward to when we get back to St. Petersburg."

"Oh," Victor's eyes gleamed. "Well. You'll just have to go run through your routine for me so I can hear it from him for myself."

"What!?" Yuuri balked.

Victor smirked, touching a fingertip to Yuuri's nose.

"Well, what did you expect for telling me to go coach?"

— 

It wasn’t until after Rostelecom that they managed to get together, and even then, it hadn’t been planned. They’d been skating late, were all exhausted, and Victor said:

“Come to our place. I’ll order something in and we can crash.”

Only, of course, it was never as simple as a crash with them. 

Bellies full, they lounged in the living room, too lazy to even turn on the TV and pretend to watch it. Instead, everyone just browsed their phones and occasionally snickered, up until Yuri stood up from the floor and canted his head at Otabek. 

This was when he normally got off in the evenings. 

“Should I take you home?” Otabek asked. 

Yuri shook his head. 

“I was thinking…” Yuri said. “We could do what you talked about.” 

Otabek had told Yuri about their Skate America conversation, and the pair’s receptiveness. Victor’s only request was that he didn’t have to sit out - that he could touch and pet Yuuri, too, while it happened.

Yuuri looked up from his phone, back and forth between the couple. He and Victor usually had ridiculous sex drives during competition season but sometimes were too busy - or tired - to take advantage, and unfortunately it had been the latter thus far. The idea of bedding Yuri made the Japanese skater harden.

“I’d love to.” A glance to his husband: “Victor?”

Victor gave a luxurious stretch and then nodded, sitting up on the couch. All eyes shifted to Otabek.

“Can we use your bed?” Otabek asked. 

Victor and Yuuri exchanged looks, little smiles of affirmation. 

“Come on,” Yuuri said, holding out his hand for Yuri’s. He led him over, reminisce of elder and younger brother, and Yuri leaned into his shoulder as they walked. When they got to the edge of the bed, Yuri started crawling on, reaching for his shirt to whip off, but Yuri caught his arms, stopped him, pulled him back to standing.

“Hold on,” Yuuri smiled, pushing up his glasses. “If this is supposed to be love making, I want to go slow. You and Victor always want to do everything so quickly.” He cast a teasing glance to his husband, eyes simmering with adoration. “ _Someone_ needs to teach you about foreplay.”

“Wh—“ Yuri started, but Yuuri laughed and cut him off with a quick peck of his lips.

“Otabek… touch under his shirt?” Yuuri suggested. “While I kiss him…” 

Yuuri leaned in again, standing beside the bed with Yuri, lips meeting in the middle. Yuri was still aggressive, though, still pushing towards Yuuri’s mouth, his own opening and his tongue darting to taste — but Yuuri gave him only calm in return. 

“Easy,” Yuuri whispered, pulling back and then kissing Yuri again, only ever allowing their lips to touch; it was gentle pressures, nothing more. 

Yuri gave a growl that faded into a mewl as Otabek came up behind him and cuddled the tiger, hands slipping under his shirt and washing over his muscles. Yuuri took a step closer, the next kiss finally letting his lips part. No tongue yet, just an openness that let the kiss linger a little longer. It also meant he could feel Otabek’s hand between them.

That, of course, made Yuuri want to touch, and he lifted one hand to cup Yuri’s cheek, cradling the boy’s face, while the other settled on his hip.

It was clear that Yuri was still a swirl of tension and excitement, not quite adjusted to this new, slower tempo Yuuri had insisted on. His body was stiff, but he was gradually giving in to the kisses and enjoying them for what they were instead of always looking forward to the finale. 

“See?” Yuuri smiled, pulling back slightly, brushing his thumb over Yuri’s wet lips. As he spoke, Victor came up behind Yuuri and eased his glasses off, folding them and setting them aside. Then he started kissing the back of Yuuri’s neck, eyes on Otabek, like offering a silent invitation. 

“Ohh,” Yuri whispered, shivering as Otabek followed Victor’s example, lips coming to Yuri’s neck. Yuuri grinned, watching the two for a moment before he used his hand to guide Yuri’s head to the side, cheek to cheek with Otabek, so that Yuuri could leave matching affections on the opposite stretch of his neck. The hand at Yuri’s hip felt the pressure start to leak out of him, felt as Yuri trembled. 

He was so used to his body being used. 

He’d never had it worshipped before. 

Otabek had found Yuri’s nipples, which meant he was brushing in the same area as Yuuri’s, too. Yuuri arched towards that contact without thinking and Otabek paused, opening his eyes from his kissing to watch as Yuuri repeated the motion. Otabek slid one hand out of Yuri’s shirt, caught the boy’s hand, and guided it underneath Yuuri’s instead. He brought Yuri’s fingertips to Yuuri’s nipple, pressed them there until Yuri seemed to understand the silent command. 

As if that touch wasn’t enough, Otabek’s hand move to Yuuri’s _other_ nipple. Yuuri shuddered, arching towards the fingertips - one hand soft and delicate and sharp-nailed and the other sturdy, stony, rigid and firm. They were perfect opposites.

It was no wonder they made such a good couple. 

Yuri’s mouth hung open, still getting kissed on both sides by Yuuri and Otabek, and Victor took that opportunity to steal his own kiss from the blonde. Yuri groaned into Victor’s mouth and Victor, at least, was of similar energy. His tongue crept out, tasting Yuri and being tasted in return, working themselves into a frenzy before Yuuri’s hand came up to gently separate the two. 

They were both panting. 

“Slowly,” Yuuri reminded his two loves. He reluctantly left the touch of Yuri and Otabek, sinking down to his knees. His hands came up underneath Yuri’s shirt, lifting it so that Yuuri could kiss that bare abdomen. Otabek pressed his nose into Yuri’s hair, sighing as he nuzzled, and reached unthinkingly to pet Yuuri’s hair, too. 

Yuuri’s tongue swirled into Yuri’s navel, making the Russian gasp, and then Yuuri kissed upwards, lifting Yuri’s shirt as he went. 

Lifting.

Lifting.

Otabek helped guide the shirt up and over Yuri’s head, off his arms, and for some reason that naked chest looked all the more beautiful for the time it had taken them to reveal it, seasoned by their teasing. 

“ _Yuri_ ,” Yuuri whispered, grasping Yuri’s sides as his lips roved over that gorgeous pale skin, that faint dusting of peach fuzz between Yuri’s pectorals. “You’re so…”

“Gorgeous,” Victor murmured, taking one of Yuri’s hands and bringing it to his mouth, kissing his sweet fingertips. 

Serious, earnest compliments from Victor Nikiforov were rare, and Yuri found himself blushing. Blushing as Victor moved his mouth up his arm: to his palm, then his wrist, then his inner elbow. Blushing as Yuuri worked from his sternum to his chin to his mouth. 

Blushing as Otabek pulled the hair on the back of his neck up so Otabek could kiss the place where one day Yuri would wear his collar. 

After Worlds. 

“Here…” Yuuri murmured, guiding Yuri to twirl, “…let me kiss your back.” 

Yuuri traced his counterpart’s shoulder blades, down the meaty muscle over his ribs, along either side of his spine to those two indentations above his hips. 

His lips followed. 

“Yuuri —“ Yuri started, but Otabek was there: Otabek’s strength and Otabek’s heat and Otabek’s lips. The Kazakh surrounded Yuri in his embrace as Yuuri kissed down his back. When Yuuri reached the blonde’s pants his fingertips came up again, running along the hem, teasing, promising. 

But not moving on, not just yet. 

Otabek used the time to draw back, to find Victor gazing in adoration, still gently petting down Yuri’s arm. Otabek beckoned to Victor, and when he was close, Otabek’s hand found the edge of Victor’s shirt. Yuri realized what was happening, twisted without dislodging Yuuri so that he could draw Victor between the two of them. Together, they pulled Victor’s shirt over his head and cast it aside, revealing the machinery of Victor’s torso. 

“Kiss it,” Yuuri whispered encouragement from where he was licking Yuri’s hip dimples, teeth coming out to scrape needfully along the flesh. Yuri gasped, but leaned forward, testing how Victor’s nipple felt beneath his lips. He suckled on it, felt it harden against his tongue, and was surprised at the mix of tenderness and lust in Victor’s arm as it wrapped around him to hold him close. 

As Yuuri rose, he discarded his own shirt, and it was Otabek who brushed an exploratory hand across his bare chest, the other resting around Victor’s waist as Yuri continued kissing Victor’s chest. 

Yuuri brought his hand to stroke Otabek’s forearm. “Is this okay?” he murmured. 

Otabek nodded, finding Yuuri’s nipples again, making the Japanese skater’s eyes go half-lidded. When Yuuri opened his eyes again he stepped close to Otabek, Victor making room for him. Even Yuri sensed something, paused to watch the interaction. 

“… Can I take your shirt off, too?” Yuuri asked. 

Otabek was quiet for a long moment, eyes turned inward.

“You don’t have to,” Yuri whispered, part of the circle the four of them had made before the bed. 

“Try,” Otabek finally said. Yuuri nodded, sliding his fingers under the soft cotton. 

“Is this okay?” 

“I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”

Yuuri lifted the material, letting his fingertips glide over Otabek’s skin. Otabek lifted his arms, shook his hair into place once the shirt was gone, and found all three of them staring at his revealed upper body. 

“Otchka,” Yuri grinned, swimming into the Kazakh’s arms. 

Otabek lifted him, spun him, and then laid him out Victor and Yuuri’s bed.

“The last time we were here, like this, all together,” Victor mused, sitting on the edge, “was for your very first test, the day before your first date with Otabek.” Yuri went scarlet. 

“Didn’t turn out quite the way you’d hoped, did it?” Otabek asked, rubbing Yuri’s exposed belly. 

“Better,” Yuri said, no hesitation at all. He was quiet for a second as Yuuri joined them, and his eyes took on a rare reflective quality. “… I was attached to them, though. I thought…. you would want me to just be yours. I’d dreamed about it and wanted it forever but.. I thought maybe that time in this bed was the last I’d ever get to be with them.” Yuri looked flustered and angry with himself the way he always did when articulating softer feelings.

“I’d never ask you to give them up,” Otabek soothed, laying on his side beside his lover, hand still making warm circles on Yuri’s stomach. Yuuri came up to coddle his other side, and Victor spooned behind that, all four of them a perfect little sandwich. 

“You’re stuck with us,” Yuuri reassured him, palm on Yuri’s pectoral. Even Yuri’s chest had started to get the flush pink of his cheeks.

Several moments of quiet passed, the whisper of fingers over skin a soft white noise.

“Do you think… think this counts as making love, too?” Yuri asked in a quiet voice.

“Absolutely,” Victor said.

“Of course,” from Yuuri.

“Yes.” Otabek’s final agreement came a fraction after the others.

And Yuri was small but so safe between them, filled with it. He gushed:

“I love you, Otchka. I love you, Yuuri. I —“ he paused, and Victor popped his head up, laughing softly at Yuri’s conundrum. 

“I care about you, too, Tiger,” Victor winked. “We can leave it at that.” 

Yuuri grinned, rubbing his nose against Yuri’s cheek.

“Do you want me inside you, Tiger?” Yuuri asked. 

“I do, but — but maybe we can just stay like this tonight? All of us together? Making love like this?” Yuri flushed. 

Yuuri thought his heart might burst. For all of his obsession with sex, Yuri finally found the pleasure of love.

“I’d like that,” Yuuri said, when he thought he could keep the tightness out of his voice. “Let’s get a bit more comfortable…” 

He took his hand away from Yuri just long enough to discard his pants, Yuri and Victor matching soon after, and finally Otabek - silently, wordlessly - joined them. 

The bed should have felt small for four people, but snuggled as they were it seemed expansive. Victor and Otabek were both spooning their shorter partners, and Yuri and Yuuri were forehead to forehead, legs laced together, hands at each other’s waists. They still touched. They kissed. Night drifted on around them while they slowly touched and loved and sighed. One by one, they fell to sleep, until only Yuuri remained aware. 

“I love you too, Yuri,” Yuuri whispered to the night, because Yuri had never actually said it before - not like that - and he wasn’t sure his heart had ever pattered quite so fast as during Yuri’s final, lovestruck confession. 

“I love you too.”


	22. Click

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course after posting three days in a row I would go through a horrific dry spell, wind up scrapping a three thousand word chapter entirely, and end up with a completely different 6.5k chapter that I'm still not happy with. 
> 
> ... I'm also sort of hungover so the editing is pretty wretch.
> 
> C'est la vie. 
> 
> Writer's karma. 
> 
> XD Sorry y'all.

“How long are you going to compete, Victor?” Chris shook his head. “This _has_ to be your last year.”

“ _Mon ami_! I could never give up,” Victor smiled, splaying his fingers on his chest in faux affront. He pulled Yuri against him, patting the younger Russian’s head, much to Yuri’s wiggling dismay. “If Yuri gets to be the youngest skater ever to win gold, surely I must outdo him by being the eldest.” 

Chris had found the pair heading back towards the hotel, Victor having effortlessly extracted them from a round of post-competition interviews. After the Trophée de France results, both Yuris were guaranteed a spot at the Grand Prix. He expected Yuri to look more relieved, but he received the Ice Tiger’s normal cool glare instead.

“Victor!” Yuri growled, snapping at the hand in his hair. His public persona remained unchanged by his private explorations with his mentor. 

“Yuri!” Yuuri came jogging up to the group just in time to chide his rival. “Be nice!” Then: “CHRIS!” 

“Yuuri,” Chris purred, sliding an arm around him and squeezing Yuuri’s ass for good measure as they exchanged kisses. “So good to see you again, _mon capitain_.” 

“And you! How’s retired life?” Yuuri asked. 

Chris turned up his nose. “I’m told I should enjoy it, but it’s painfully boring; truly nothing compares to the ice.” 

“Aw.” Yuuri gestured to his young rival like offering a sacrificial lamb. “We have something to spice up your evening, at least.” 

“What!?” Yuri yelped, scooting out of Victor’s grip. 

Yuuri grinned: that dark, cocky Eros expression coming to the forefront as he hooked his arm around Yuri’s waist and pulled him back. He would have danced his lips over Yuri’s cheek, if they weren’t in public. “We wanted to ease you in to your test. Otabek gave us permission to have Chris take you for a ride, if you’d like.” 

Yuri turned bright red, eyes darting to Chris and then down again. 

“I’ve never seen this one at a loss for words,” Chris mused, single finger lifting Yuri’s chin. “Is he delicate in bed?” 

Yuri growled at the Swiss and smacked his hand away.

“The opposite,” Yuuri laughed, brushing Yuri’s hair back from his face as the boy continued to flush. If anything, Yuri stepped closer to his elder rival, nestling into Yuuri’s half embrace for comfort even as Yuuri made a point of showing off his body. “He’s been training most of the year with us,” Yuuri explained, and the pride in his voice was a surprising reassurance for Yuri - a reminder of all the work he’d put in, of how far he’d come. 

“To think I’d see you shy, Yuri Plisetsky,” Chris shook his head in amazement. He spent a moment studying the blond teen, the appraisal in his eyes making Yuri shiver. He decided: “You’re a little young for my tastes, but I could never turn down an ass like that.” 

Yuuri pet Yuri again, gentle and sweet: “Are you okay with that, Yuri? It’ll help prepare you for your test.” His finger swept in a delicate line at the base of Yuri’s neck, tracing the path where the collar would lie. 

Yuri glanced at Chris, then away, so demure suddenly. He gave a tiny nod. “Otabek said it was OK?”

“Hai, but you can text him to make sure,” Yuuri said, continuing to give Yuri little reassurances. “Chris is safe, too. Victor and I have both slept with him. He’ll be good to you.”

“ _Mon petit chaton_ …” Chris purred, giving Yuri’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I can take you however you like, including not at all.”

Yuuri kept an anchoring arm around his rival, turned to Chris. “Yuri is training as a sub; he prefers if we do what we like to him. It’s his job to handle it, however we desire to play with him, right Yuri?” 

Yuri burrowed his face into Yuuri’s neck, growling, and gave a little nod. 

“You okay?” Yuuri whispered, just for him. Yuri nipped at his neck in affirmation, then whispered back, equally soft, so no one else would hear: 

“What if he’s too big?” 

And Yuuri couldn’t help but smile, laugh, squeeze the little tiger who, Yuuri realized, had only ever had two men inside of him before. Both Yuuri and Victor were average - proportional for their height with Victor perhaps being a bit more than that, but Yuri had nothing to compare to. 

“Nothing you can’t handle,” Yuuri reassured. He turned back to Chris, “Meet us after dinner?” 

“With wine,” Victor amended. 

“And a first aid kit?” Chris raised his brow in Victor’s direction, but Victor simply winked. 

— 

“How’re you feeling?” Yuuri asked, rubbing Yuri’s back. “You look nervous.”

“I’m fine!” Yuri huffed, but it was followed by a pout as he swam into Yuuri’s lap and hugged his rival. Yuuri grinned, holding Yuri tight, continuing his massage.

“It’s OK to be nervous,” Yuuri said. “I was, my first time with Chris, too.”

“I wasn’t!” Victor beamed. 

“Shut up, Victor!” Yuri scowled over Yuuri’s shoulder. 

Victor laughed, coming over to ruffle both their hair, and that was as far as he got before there was a knock at the door. 

Busying himself with little nips and nibbles on Yuuri’s neck, Yuri hid from Chris, just listening as the elder skater came in.

“By request, Baby Bee,” he heard Chris’ voice. The wine bottle changed hands.

“Ooh, _dent de lion_ , spoiling us with your fineries! You know exactly wha —mm!” Yuri knew all too well the sound of a muffling kiss, but he peeked his eyes over Yuuri’s shoulder anyway so he could see the way Chris was bowed over Victor, stabilizing hand on the Russian’s back, kiss already so passionate and so deep. Familiar. Victor had the wine in one hand, the other coming up around Chris’ shoulders. 

“They were lovers for years,” Yuuri explained as he saw the confusion on Yuri’s face. He twisted to look, too, and soothed the prickle of jealousy with a happiness for his husband and a desire for that wet, delicious Swiss mouth on his own. 

It was going to be a lovely night. 

“Yuris,” Chris greeted them as he pulled back from Victor, leaving the dazed skater to wander to the bar to fetch a corkscrew. 

Yuri glared at Chris while Yuuri offered a fond smile. He ushered the smaller Russian to his feet for a greeting. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Chris said, catching Yuri’s glare in the palm of his hand and bringing his mouth down over it. Yuuri held the boy still, felt the initial tension in his frame, and felt, too, how quickly it melted away under Chris’ lips. 

Yuri still didn’t kiss back, was still passive, but he opened his mouth and let Chris in and at the very least didn’t hold back his body. Chris, in turn, was thorough in his exploration, pulling away only when Yuri was short of breath and he’d thoroughly mapped the boy’s mouth. 

“Mmm,” Chris purred his appreciation, letting go of Yuri’s jaw. “Delicious.”

Yuri was still pressed back against Yuuri, staying anchored to the elder, but he’d lifted his chin to follow Chris’ mouth when he pulled away, and Yuuri recognized the tell-tale gleam in Yuri’s eyes. 

Arousal was warring against Yuri’s nerves. 

“Yuri likes to go fast, like Victor,” Yuuri explained, stroking his hand through Yuri’s hair and getting a powerful glower in return. 

“Well. I’m happy to oblige. But wine first,” Chris smiled, seeing Victor approach with glasses. The Swiss sat on one of the plush hotel chairs and beckoned to Yuri. “Come sit on my lap.”

“Go on,” Yuuri nudged Yuri forward, the tiger grumbling all the way, but he settled down as Chris lifted his wine glass out of the way. He looked stiff as a board, and Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Show off your body, Tiger,” Yuuri encouraged. “We all know how proud you are of it.”

“And it looks so good in gold,” Chris purred. He swiveled his wine in the glass and then lifted it. “To you, Ice Tiger. Congratulations on your win.” 

And, like a charm, the compliment made Yuri’s chest puff out - all the more so as his rivals toasted him, too. “To our Tiger.”

A round of clinking led to slow swallows. Yuri’s drink was gone like a shot, which nearly made Chris choke. He tucked his arm at Yuri’s waist, hand finding grip on the teen’s hip, and gave a squeeze. 

“Do I make you that nervous?” Chris asked. “You had no issue beating me last year.”

Yuri snorted, hmphing as he shifted his weight in Chris’ lap. His eyes flew to Yuuri, but the Japanese skater was snuggled with his husband, canoodling and whispering. 

“Yuuri,” Yuri whined.

“You’re doing fine,” Yuuri laughed. “Relax, Tiger. Chris, tell us how you’ve been.”

The next thirty minutes Yuri spent completely ignoring whatever was coming out of Chris’ mouth and instead focusing on Chris’ painfully slow physical seduction. Without any shift to his demeanor, Chris’ hand moved from stroking Yuri’s thigh, to riding the inside of it, to - finally, once Yuri was horrifically hard and needing, legs widened enough to be wanton - cupping Yuri’s crotch and grinding the meaty thumb of his palm against Yuri’s erection.

“You look comfortable, Yuri,” Victor finally chirped. The teen startled, glaring at Victor, but couldn’t find it in him to pull away from Chris. 

“I told you Chris would take care of you,” Yuuri smirked. “Why don’t you let him see you, hm?”

Yuri growled, but glanced back at Chris, who had his normal, sexual calm around him. The Swiss took a long drink of his wine, gazing at Yuri over the crystal edge, waiting to see what he would do. When Yuri twisted in his lap to straddle him, Chris set his glass aside and replaced the curve of the crystal with the curves of Yuri’s ass in his palm. With one more look at Yuuri, like to see if he was doing it right, Yuri lifted his shirt up and over his head.

“There we go,” Chris smiled, hands exploring the fresh skin. Yuri was loosening up - the wine mixing with his erection to make him eager. He arched to Chris’ touch. “So… you’re going to be the centerpiece of the party after Worlds, hm? And you need a bit of practice before then?”

“I’m going to earn my collar,” Yuri declared, that stubborn pride swelling up again. “I’m going to take everyone. For hours. And then Otchka’s going to put it around my neck so everyone knows I’m his.” He glared this like a challenge to Chris, who, unfazed, cupped Yuri’s face again and kissed him slow. As his tongue was slicking into Yuri’s mouth his hands returned to Yuri’s pants, unbuttoning them, pushing them down enough that he could grab Yuri’s ass.

“Victor,” Chris purred as he pulled back, “I’m sure you’ve got lube?”

“I can take you dry!” Yuri said, fingers fisting in Chris’ shirt. 

Chris looked horrified. “What?! Victor, what are you teaching this boy?! Yuri, no, _no_.”

“I can do it,” Yuri repeated. 

“I believe you,” Chris said, shooting Victor an admonishing look. “But I’m going to use lube.” 

Victor sighed, winked, and came over with a tissue box and a tube of lube. 

“Dare I ask what other training regiment you’ve had for poor Yuri?” Chris asked. He gave Yuri’s ass a pat before pushing him off his lap. “Strip down, _mon petit chaton_.”

Yuri was good at following instructions. He stood up and shimmied out of his pants and underwear, standing naked before Chris. 

“He keeps a plug in most nights,” Victor said. “Yuuri and I take him for rides every week, at least.”

“Otabek uses toys on me, too,” Yuri said. “Big ones.” He’d never gotten that very first toy all the way in him again. He must have been more intoxicated by Otabek that first night than he’d realized. But he’d kept practicing. He was getting better. Close. 

“I’m sure you’ve been helping with his endurance, _mon capitain_?” Chris asked, standing and wrapping his arm around Yuri. 

“A few nights,” Yuuri blushed. 

Yuri smirked, pulling at Chris’ pants, and Victor took the opportunity to slide behind Chris and start lifting up the Swiss’ shirt. 

“I love those nights,” Yuri declared, throwing a kiss over his shoulder to Yuuri. That was all the encouragement Yuuri needed to join the fun; shirt and pants disappeared before his hands roved over Yuri’s nudity. 

“Me too,” Yuuri whispered into Yuri’s skin, kissing his neck. Yuri was busy with Chris’ zipper, but once freed he pushed down the whole mess of cloth.

“Oh! You —“ Yuri gasped as Chris’ pants pooled at his ankles. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and his whole crotch was perfectly devoid of hair, cock and balls smooth and flawless. 

“I told you he waxes,” Victor smirked. “Our _dent de lion_ doesn’t disappoint.”

Yuri couldn’t help himself. His hands traced from Chris’ navel down to the half chub he was sporting, which stiffened rapidly once Yuri’s fingers wrapped around it. Yuri tried to touch his thumb to his middle finger and gulped when they couldn’t meet. 

“Wait,” Yuri stopped Chris as he saw him flicking open the lube cap. Instead, Yuri lowered himself to his knees, wondering what that thickness would feel like in his mouth. 

“Go easy, or your jaw’s going to get tired,” Victor warned, hugging Chris from behind and not-so-subtly grinding on Chris’ ass. 

Yuri gave Victor a look like he knew what he was doing, but sure enough, a minute later, Yuri tugged off of Chris’ cock and stretched his jaw with a grimace. 

“Told you,” Victor smirked. 

“Don’t worry,” Chris purred. “I’m wet enough for you now.” 

Yuri, rigid with anticipation, pranced towards the bed only to have Chris grab his wrist. “Not so fast.” Chris picked Yuri up just as easily, if not moreso, as Victor did. Instead of taking him to the bed or even the plush chair, Chris walked forward until Yuri’s back hit the wall. He pinned Yuri there like a butterfly to velvet. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” Chris said. When had he lubed his fingers? One of them pressed into Yuri, eliciting a breathy gasp, and was followed swiftly by a second. “Mmm. All that work and still so tight, _beau chaton_.”

Yuri licked his lip, tightening his body around Chris’ fingers. The expression on Chris’ face darkened with lust, evoking a surge of power in Yuri. He squeezed again, milking those fingers, and wondered why he didn’t do this more often when Yuuri or Victor was inside of him. 

“Good?” Chris asked. 

“More,” Yuri begged.

With a smirk, Chris removed his fingers, grabbed himself and aligned, loosening his hold on Yuri. “Sink down.” 

Yuri had never done this before, found himself struggling, but Chris was calm and suave and with chuckling confidence worked with Yuri until the young Russian finally felt the head of Chris’ cock between his cheeks. His eyes bulged at the girth; it hadn’t looked that much thicker than Victor or Yuuri, but to _feel_ it? Yuri had just enough time to squeak in surprise before gravity took over and that thick length spread him apart.

“Chris!” Yuri yelped.

That was right around when Yuuri’s palms truck the wall beside them. 

Victor was behind him, inside of him, and cast a challenging glance over to Chris as he started railing on Yuuri’s ass.

Chris was used to Victor’s tricks, but Yuri’s competitive spirit took the bait instantly. 

“Faster,” Yuri demanded of Chris, wanting to keep up with the other couple.

“I thought the whole point was your stamina.”

“Just — beat them!” Yuri groaned as Chris bucked into him.

“ _Allez_ , Chris!” Victor smirked, staring at the Swiss skater as Yuuri braced back against Victor, letting him in deeper. 

“ _Allez_ , Baby Bee? Did you miss competing against me so much?” Chris stared right back at him, grabbing Yuri’s shoulder and pulling the boy down hard onto his cock. They both ignored the grunts coming from the men under them, all their attention on each other. 

Yuuri took a moment to smirk over at Yuri; Chris wasn’t going on easy on him, and pinned as he was, Yuri couldn’t do anything to avoid the powerful slams of Chris’ hips. He might have retired, but Chris’ musculature certainly hadn’t softened, even if it had a layer of plushness on top of it now. 

Yuri was just trying to breathe. Victor and Yuuri had both taken him hard before, as hard as this, but never in this position, and never as thick. It felt like the wind was getting knocked out of him with every thrust, and he didn’t realize how intense it was until he noticed his whole body was taut with the tension of just enduring the fuck. 

How long had it been? 

How was he ever going to survive five hours of this?

Yuri’s head tipped back, clonking against the wall. His hand came to his neck, wondering what the collar would feel like, and Yuuri must have caught the gesture.

“You’ll… do just fine….” Yuuri panted reassurance. 

Suddenly Chris’ arms were enveloping Yuri again, peeling him off the wall. He set Yuri down, flipped him around so that their position mirrored the other couple. Another bit of prodding and then Chris was inside Yuri again, and Yuri braced, like Yuuri, against the wall.

“You really think…” Yuri started, but his voice cut off as Chris’ grabbed his hips and bucked deep. Chris was increasingly invested in Victor’s game, even their thrusts synching up as they focused on each other.

Yuuri had his cheek against the wall, facing Yuri, a sweet smile on his lips in the midst of all the heady sex. Yuri caught that energy, found his first instinct was to smile back, and was paralyzed between a blush and a glare at the way Yuuri made him feel.

Before he could do either, Yuuri reached over, laying his hand over Yuri’s and squeezing. 

“You’re going to be incredible,” Yuuri panted. “I’ll take care of you. No matter how hard everyone else is on you. I’ll go slow.”

“Don’t you dare,” Yuri whispered, squeezing Yuuri’s hand in return.

“Yuuuuri,” Victor whimpered. Yuri knew that noise. He glanced back at Chris, who clearly knew it too. Victor was about to come. 

It was Yuuri who broke it off, moving his body out from under Victor’s.

“I’m not losing to Yuri again,” Yuuri panted, swiping a hand through his hair before grabbing Victor and twisting them. 

Victor found himself against the wall, Yuuri fumbling with the lube. 

Chris slowed down, thank god, and Yuri took a moment to breathe while Yuuri prepped himself for his husband and then sunk inside. 

“I was so close,” Victor whined. 

“Exactly,” Yuuri tsked. He grinned over at Yuri, then tipped his head in greeting to Chris. “ _Allez?_ ”

Chris laughed, “ _Ganbare, mon capitain._ ”

With a smirk, Yuuri bucked, evincing a guttural, raspy moan from Victor, who hadn’t braced himself so much as slumped forward against the wall, squirming with desire. His eyes were closed, his hand between his legs, holding himself and desperately trying not to come. 

“Still afraid you’ll peak too early, _mon chou_?” Chris asked Victor.

“With Yuri in the competition… we both have to make sure we… get the right timing…” Victor smiled in his daze. Yuuri bent over his coach, arm at Victor’s waist, tongue licking the dust of sweat on the back of Victor’s shoulder before his teeth bit into it. “Ah! Yuuri!”

Yuri wanted to get bit. He watched the other pair as Chris’ cock slid in and out of his ass. Chris drizzled more lube between them, letting the thrusts disperse the slick fluid. Yuri was finally getting used to the thickness, the tempo, the power. Chris was matched to Yuuri’s pace now instead of Victor’s, which was far calmer, more focused: about the technique instead of just the impressive speed and ferocity.

“What do you think of him?” Yuuri asked.

“Exquisite,” Chris sighed. “It’s going to be quite the night with everyone, isn’t it? How lucky Otabek is to have you all the time, fuckable whenever he wants.”

For a second Yuri’s eyes darkened, the wine turning them almost glossy as Yuri suddenly pillowed his arms on the wall and hid his face against them. Chris looked over at Yuuri with a sudden frown, wondering how he’d misstepped.

“Otabek doesn’t fuck,” Yuuri explained. 

“Oh…” Chris blinked, confusion spreading across his features. “You top him?” 

“No, he’s —” Yuuri started.

“He makes love!” Yuri growled against his arms. Chris’ pace flagged, realizing he’d set the little tiger off. 

Yuuri noticed it too. 

“Chrissu,” he chirped. “Trade with me?” 

“Of course, _mon capitain_ ,” Chris accepted, washing a hand down Yuri’s back in apology before he pulled off. “Bed, Victor? Shall I take off the comforter for you?”

When he realized Chris’ joke, Victor barked a wineful laugh and held out his arms to the Swiss to be swept up. Chris spun him to the bed and climbed on. 

“Remember, Chris,” Yuuri warned. 

“I know, I know. No cum in your husband,” Chris purred. “I’ll paint his belly with it instead.” 

And that left Yuuri to Yuri. 

“You okay?” Yuuri asked, blanketing Yuri with his body. He let his chest rest against Yuri’s back, giving Yuri all the contact he could while his hands trickled down the teen’s sides. Yuri nodded, but his face stayed buried in his arms. Neither Victor nor Yuuri had ever been terribly good at this kind of comfort.

Yuuri nuzzled his rival’s cheek, brushing his nose over Yuri’s skin. 

“I know it must be hard, for both of you, to be different than what everyone expects,” Yuuri murmured. 

“No, it’s —“ Yuri huffed and twisted around so they were face to face. “It’s that we _have_ what everyone thinks we don’t have! They just don’t believe it. You don’t have to fuck to —“ 

Yuri got too angry, snarling off the end of the sentence and glaring to the side. The wine had not been kind to him.

“Hey,” Yuuri said. He wrapped his arms around Yuri, just hugging him. “I know. I know.” 

He kissed Yuri’s furrowed eyebrows, then pet down Yuri’s nose the same way Otabek always did when Yuri was huffy or upset or needed to be calmed. He saw the flash of recognition in the tiger’s eyes and Yuri went shy, ducking his head. 

“We’ll video him after this,” Yuuri murmured, cuddling Yuri. “Why don’t you let me fill you up, hm?” He brought his lips to Yuri’s ear, cooing words far to dirty to deserve the cherishing tone. “Let all three of us fill you up - Chris and Victor too - and then we can video your master and show him all you were able to take. Imagine how proud he’ll be…” 

Yuri’s face was bright red, but the shiver that traced from crown to toe betrayed his desire. He gave a little nod, then twisted around again so he could brace himself on the wall. 

“No,” Yuuri corrected him. “I want you on the bed. Go.” 

Yuri pattered towards where Chris and Victor were rutting, finding a space on the edge of the bed. 

“Chris. Victor. You’ll come inside Yuri when you’re ready. Do you understand?” 

Maybe it was Yuuri commanding him, maybe it was just the tightness of Victor’s ass, but Chris pulled back, out of Victor, and grabbed Yuri all in a single, furious motion. Yuri had just enough time to cry out in surprise and alarm before his arms were pinned at his sides and his legs were forced open by Chris’ knee. He shrieked at the thrust, at Chris’ massive tool invading him again, and that was all it took before Chris was shuddering, bucking his orgasm into Yuri’s body. 

Yuri stared up at him, still shocked, terribly turned on. No one had ever been quite so bestial with him before. 

“Like that?” Chris managed to grunt. 

“Perfect,” Yuuri said, sauntering to the bed. Victor was pawing at Chris, pushing him out of the way. 

“My turn,” Victor slurred. Chris moved, but kept his hands on Yuri’s wrists. He brought the tiger’s arms up over his head so he could restrain them with a single hand, holding the boy down for Victor. He flicked at Yuri’s nipples but didn’t get anywhere near the reaction he was used to from Yuuri. 

Victor cupped his protege’s cheek, canted his head with that charming, lust-drunk smile. “Such a good student, Yuri. Let me in.” 

Yuri squirmed against Chris’ hold but obediently tucked his legs up to his chest, stretching with his normal grace. 

Victor fucked into him, only managing a few thrusts before he felt Yuuri behind him, inside him. 

“I thought we were coming in Yuri?” Victor purred over his shoulder to his husband, happily setting pace with him. 

“We are,” Yuuri reassured, teeth grazing Victor’s neck. He felt the extra hard thrust his mouth evoked in Victor, smirked against his skin. “Just want to help you along.”

Chris had already done most of the work. It was less than a minute before Victor was adding his cum to the pool in Yuri’s bowels, squeezing his dick as he pulled out to make sure Yuri got every last drop. 

“You’re doing so well, Tiger,” Yuuri reassured as he took his husband’s place, pulling Yuri’s hips towards him and slipping into the teen like pulling on a glove. 

Yuri’s body stretched, arms still held by Chris, while Victor, spent and contented, curled up on his side to watch them. 

As Yuuri started to thrust he couldn’t help a laugh, “Wow, boys, has it been so long? There’s… a lot in here.” 

He felt the slickness of Chris and Victor’s cum gliding around his cock, extra lubricant for Yuri’s sweet sex. It was squishy and wet, an almost frictionless glide, at least until Yuri started to squeeze and pulse around him. 

“Mmm, new trick, Tiger?” Yuuri purred down. Yuri smirked, devious and proud, clenching his muscles around Yuuri’s cock like he was trying to lock him in and never let him go. “S’good.” He rubbed Yuri’s thigh in appreciation.

Victor, ever eager to be a part of things, brought a hand around Yuuri’s backside and slid a finger into his lover. He found Yuuri’s prostate and swiveled the pad of his finger over it, other hand grabbing Yuuri’s sac and playing the orbs inside like baoding balls. 

“Victor,” Yuuri cursed. 

“Keep going,” Yuri encouraged Victor. “I want him to fill me. I want to show Ota everything I took.” 

“Oh?” Victor asked. 

“Should I get my camera?” Chris purred. He let go of Yuri’s wrists, rising from the bed. This let Yuri prop himself up, watch what Yuuri was doing between his legs. With Victor’s aid, Yuuri’s normally steady rhythm was starting to crumble; Yuri could see the syncopated shudders in Yuuri’s thighs.

“Yuuri,” Yuri encouraged. “Come on! Fuck me! Fill me up!” 

Yuuri glared at his rival, nails digging into Yuri’s hips to pull him down hard. Between Chris and Victor’s cocks loosening Yuri up and the thick slime of their cum, getting the friction he needed was difficult. He wound up thrusting back onto Victor’s fingers just as hard as he was fucking Yuri, which ultimately made him bow over Yuri with a grunt and freeze in pleasure.

He, too, squeezed his cock on the way out, and somehow Yuri’s ass closed back tight when he left. 

“Do you need a plug, tiger?” Victor asked. 

Yuri shook his head, wobbling to his knees, ass clenched tight. “Let’s video Otchka.”

When he sat up, Chris was there, adjusting the lens on an exceptionally nice camera. 

“I thought you were joking,” Yuri blinked. 

“Oh no, Chris never jokes about his photography,” Victor smiled. “Chris takes photos of most of his lovers… he has an… nm… exquisite collection.”

“Do you mind, Yuri?” Chris asked. “I can take shots below the neck, so no one will know it’s you.”

Yuri looked wary. “… You have photos of Victor and Yuuri?” 

“Yes,” Chris said. “And Sara and Emil, Leo…” 

“Naked?!” 

“Tastefully nude. And all film. Nothing digital. Nothing hackable. Nothing posted to the internet or loosed to the cloud. I develop all the negatives myself.” 

Victor offered an adoring smile. “He’s Switzerland, after all. Everyone trusts him with their secrets.” 

“No pressure, of course,” Chris was quick to add. “Only if you want to. But if you contribute to the collection, you also get to see everyone else’s…” 

_That_ intrigued the Russian tiger, and he finally nodded his head. “Ok. But I’m going to call Otchka still and show him.” 

Not a minute later Yuri’s phone was bubbling with the sound of a connection, and Otabek’s face appeared, headboard behind him. 

“Hey,” Otabek said. “You ok?”

Yuri adjusted the screen so that Yuuri was visible behind him, holding the tiger about his waist. 

“Mm,” Yuri nodded to his lover. 

“You look like you’ve had a good time,” Otabek mused, looking at how messy Yuri’s hair was, how dazed his expression seemed. 

“I took all three of them, Otchka,” Yuri bragged. “I… m... can I show you?” 

“Show me?” 

Yuri gave a nod, and Yuuri took hold of the phone as Yuri twisted around in his lap. He snuggled into Yuuri’s chest and looked at Otabek over his shoulder. 

“They filled me,” Yuri said. 

“Ah,” Otabek’s eyes lightened in understanding. “You like that feeling. You always put a plug in after Yuuri takes you. If you can.” 

Yuri flushed, and Yuuri used the opportunity to nod acknowledgment at Otabek. Then, he lowered the camera down Yuri’s body, homing in on Yuri’s ass while a different camera clicked in the background. Chris snapped pictures of the tangled Yuris, the light from the phone spotlighting Yuri’s perfect ballet butt and the raw red bullseye inside it.

“OK, Tiger,” Otabek said, voice calm but engaged, hyper-attentive even at a distance. “Push it out slow for me.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Yuri obeyed. It was Victor who caught the expression on Chris’ face, the stunned and aroused realization of exactly what kind of relationship Yuri and Otabek had. 

Yuuri assisted his rival, free hand pulling on one of Yuri’s cheeks to open up the view.

_Click_.

“What’s that sound?” Otabek asked. 

“Chris is taking pictures. Neck down only,” Yuuri reassured. “Non-digital.”

Otabek’s eyes flashed alarm. A breath to calm himself and then, steady-voiced; “You trust him?”

“Very much so,” Yuuri said, equally serious.

“Ah!” Yuri hissed, and the first driblet of cum eked out of his ass, creating an impressively long thread that finally snapped, the cum splattering on the floor under Yuri’s ass.

“Slowly,” Otabek reminded him as another glob bubbled out. 

“I’m trying!” Yuri cursed. He grit his teeth together, watching in the tiny preview window on the phone as the whiteness refused to drip off of him, instead clinging to his asshole. 

“Lift up your balls and it won’t be able to slide down them,” Victor suggested, and Yuri reached between his legs, grabbing his junk and hefting so there was nowhere for the foggy gel to slide. Then he pushed again, asshole pulsing out. Victor came up beside them, grabbing Yuri’s other cheek and pulling it open. His finger swiped into that crevice and skiid across the gunk. 

“Too bad we didn’t clean you out first,” Victor purred. “I would have had a feast.”

Victor moved his finger away as Yuri groaned and more came out, a full load all at once. He tightened up, wanting to hold back.

“It’s alright, Tiger,” Otabek reassured, and with permission Yuri relaxed, letting another gloopy trail of milky cum out of him.

“I… I think that might be it,” Yuri blushed.

“Did you like it?” Otabek asked. Yuuri brought the camera back up again, so Otabek could see their faces. 

“Yeah,” Yuri nodded, leaning into Yuuri. “But I miss you.”

“You still haven’t come, Tiger,” Yuuri pointed out. “Why don’t you ask your Sir for permission?”

“Oh…” Yuri looked down to the length in his hand, realized it was pulsing and hard - had been, actually, since he first settled in Chris’ lap. 

“Victor.” 

Otabek’s voice made the Russian’s gaze flick up, snapping to attention. 

“You want a meal?” Otabek raised his brow. 

“ _Sir_ ,” Victor purred, gazing at the screen through silver bangs. 

“Might I recommend the bed?” Chris piped up over the edge of his lens. He came over, holding out his hand for the phone. “How’s your evening been, Otabek?” Chris asked, nonchalantly, as Yuuri tossed a pillow onto the floor beside the bed. Otabek snorted in response, watching the scene get prepared out and hearing the occasional click as Chris documented it. 

Yuuri crawled onto the white covers and pulled Yuri into his lap, sitting on the edge, above the pillow.

“Comfortable?” Yuuri asked. Yuri nodded, and Yuuri helped him spread his legs out. Yuuri’s palms pulled back on Yuri’s thighs, guiding him open, until Yuri’s straddle was so wide it was nearly a split. Yuuri rubbed from his inner thighs to his knees and back in again in mimicry of Chris’ initial attentions.

“Go on, Victor,” Otabek encouraged from the phone.

Yuuri commanded Victor to the pillow with a single, emphatic point. Victor’s asshole was still puffed from his earlier fuck, lewd looking against his otherwise pale skin, but he didn’t shy away from the position. He arched his back as he knelt, emphasizing his ass, and then laced his fingers with Yuuri’s over their tiger’s thighs. 

His breath tickled Yuri, made him want to clamp his legs together, but those hands easily kept him spread. 

“Tongue first, Victor,” Otabek said. A quiet click captured the three of them: Yuri held in place between the pair as Victor laid on his talents. 

Chris moved the phone closer, coming up alongside the three so that Otabek could see exactly what Victor was doing to Yuri. 

“You’ve improved, Baby Bee,” Chris mused, petting Victor’s crown down to the back of his neck. Victor’s only response was to lap his tongue faster under Yuri’s head. 

“Mouth now,” Otabek continued, voice emanating from that tiny screen. “Keep your hands out of the way.” 

Victor glanced at the phone, finding Otabek’s eyes, and opened his mouth around that sweet red tip. He drew it in with his tongue, then proceeded to slide his open jaw down. Farther. Farther. He moved slow but constant, all the way down Yuri’s shaft until the entire organ was buried in his mouth, pushing down his throat. His eyes were still on Otabek’s, frozen there at the end of his descent. 

“Boy. Grab his hair.”

Yuri gripped that fine silver mess, disarrayed from his time pounded into the bed, against the wall. 

“Pull him off.”

With a groan of disappointment Yuri tightened his hold and pulled Victor back down the length of his cock and off. Once Victor could breath again he licked his lips, eyes briefly lancing Yuri before returning to that now-glistening flesh that contained the meal he so desperately wanted. 

It was silly to say that Yuri’s cum had a particular flavor Victor enjoyed, but perhaps it was the dynamic: sucking seed out of the boy who would - it was clear to everyone, Victor didn’t deny it - take his place and even outshine him as Russian’s premier skater. 

“Do you want more?” Otabek asked, and both Yuri and Victor simultaneously rang out: “Yes, Sir.”

Yuuri and Chris exchanged a look, unseen by the other three, appraising their silver-haired sub. 

“Pull him back down on you, boy,” Otabek said. “Victor, let Yuri control you.” 

Victor’s growl was nearly inaudible. Yuri had dropped his hand away, but at Otabek’s instruction Victor tipped his head, offering his hair to Yuri once more. With a hard swallow, Yuri stroked the silver stuff, tending to some of the flyaway licks before taking up a handful like reins. Victor opened his mouth, and Yuri guided him back onto his cock.

_Click_

“Go on,” Otabek encouraged. “Yuuri will tell you if you’re too rough with him.”

Another swallow. Victor’s eyes had closed, focused on keeping his throat relaxed, suckling where he could, and swiping his tongue across Yuri’s skin. Yuri used his makeshift reins to guide Victor into a shallow rhythm where every short thrust let the head of Yuri’s cock pass into that tighter corridor of Victor’s throat.

“Otchka…” Yuri moaned. 

“Don’t come,” Otabek warned. “When I give you permission, pull him back and come on his tongue so I can see it.”

Victor made a little gurgling noise, a half choke, half gag, at those words. The sudden sharp squeeze of Victor’s throat made Yuri tense.

“I need to come,” Yuri begged, breathless.

“A little bit longer,” Otabek said. 

Chris pulled the phone back so Otabek could see the three of them in full again, see the tension in Yuri’s trembling thighs and pointed toes and his free hand angled back behind him to grab Yuuri. Yuuri, who was nipping his way along Yuri’s shoulder, fingers digging into those sweet thighs, and - just barely visible in the shadow of Yuri’s ass - fully hard again.

“You can plug him, Yuuri,” Otabek said. “He’ll feel good around you when he comes, won’t he?” 

Yuuri bit hard into Yuri’s shoulder, enough to make the teen arch up and thrust into Victor’s throat, pulling on that silver hair to gag him to the hilt.

“Please, Otchka!” Yuri begged. 

“Victor,” Otabek said, with his normal stoic nonchalance, utterly unfazed by the depravity. “Put your husband’s cock in my boy.” 

Even in the video stream, the bolt of tension that ran down Victor’s spine was clear. There was a soft “ _Seigneur!_ ” near the microphone. Victor let go of Yuri’s thigh, still gagged on the boy’s cock, and reached below to grab Yuuri. Chris moved closer again, capturing the straining curve of Yuuri’s cock as Victor lifted it under Yuri’s balls and forced the rigid thing backwards, arched up into the furrow of Yuri’s cheeks. It was so hard, it pierced Yuri immediately, easily half the length disappearing as the arch was free to straighten inside him. 

“ _Please_ , Otchka,” Yuri whimpered, completely desperate now. 

There was a long silence, Otabek’s face calm and observant as he watched the feed of Yuri pulling Victor’s hair, tightening around Yuuri’s cock, so clearly close and on edge. The moment stretched out, agonizing, Yuri’s whole body quaking with the effort of holding back his orgasm. 

Then:

“Come, boy.”

And it all came crashing down.

_Click_

Chris caught the moment when Yuri splattered on Victor’s tongue. He caught the moment when Victor blushed, holding out said tongue to show the phone, to show Otabek. 

He caught the glowing pride on Yuri’s cheeks as Otabek praised him, told him to be good, told him he’d see him soon. 

Chris caught the way Yuuri kept his rival in his lap, sitting on his cock, anchored in the most intimate way, until they curled up together, exhausted, still conjoined. 

The last picture was Chris and Victor, an old-fashioned selfie, poorly composed, engaged in a sloppy, adoring kiss with the younger two fast asleep on the bed behind them, testament to the night’s events.


	23. Permission to Pair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mad struggling with this fic right now, y'all. Mad struggling. 
> 
> You can read the first version of this chapter (which I trashed, and which would have happened immediately after the quartet's cuddle evening) in the [Locker](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9345557/chapters/24572067), if you dare. Shouts to [verity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity) and [Sintina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintina/pseuds/Sintina) for sanity checks.
> 
> I also got away from it briefly to write some pre-Yuri Chris/Vic/Yuuri with Sintina: [After the Rejection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11016084). 
> 
> As always, I appreciate you folks so much for sticking around, especially when we're going through a bit of a rut. Thanks for being rad <3 I adore you <3
> 
>  **Update** : Adding 10 words to make 111111 words WHAT.

Four friends and lovers stood outside the airport, exchanging farewells.

“Don’t worry. You’ve got Yuuri,” Otabek said, arms locked in a tight hug around his boyfriend. “He has free reign over you. Obey him.” 

Yuri nodded into Otabek’s chest, hating how quickly he had to pull away. Yuuri was still savoring his hug with his husband when Yuri drew away - under no such limitations in public. 

Silence set in after they’d all said their goodbyes, but the Yuris exchanged a look that made it clear there was more to say.

“We’ve decided on rules for you two, too,” Yuuri spoke after a supporting nod from Yuri. 

“What?!” Victor yelped. 

Yuuri gave Victor a powerful look. “Don’t play innocent. You’re both clearly very…” he glanced at Yuri.

“ _Invested_ ,” Yuri supplied. 

“ _Invested_ in each other,” Yuuri agreed. He cleared his throat as both Otabek and Victor stared in shock. “Yuri and I talked, and we’ve decided the two of you can kiss and cuddle and sleep together. Err… not just in the same bed. Penetration is OK, too. Oh! And Otabek can dom you _if_ there’s no pain play involved. You’re too delicate for that when I’m not there.”

“And you can’t pet his nose like you do mine, Otchka!” Yuri added, the pink on his cheeks nowhere near as dark as Victor’s flush face. 

“And both of us want to know about it,” Yuuri continued. “Preferably if you could replay it when you get back…” He grinned, teasing. “But pictures would work too.”

“Yes, we want to see,” Yuri agreed, clenching his fist. “It’s really hot.”

“I even packed Princess for you,” Yuuri pat Victor’s skate bag. “In your left skate.”

Otabek and Victor had yet to speak or respond with anything more than slack-jawed awe. Finally, Victor coughed. 

“I — we — ”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Otabek said, quicker to regain his composure and less flustered in the first place.

Victor coughed again: “We need to catch our flight.”

“Says the man who’s always late,” Yuuri grinned. He leaned in for one more quick kiss, and Yuri would have given anything at that moment to do the same. “Win us some medals!” 

“Yeah! Gold ones!” Yuri yelled at their retreating backs. 

When they were well in the airport and Victor had given his final goodbye wave, Yuri smirked over at his rival. 

“Think that’ll be enough?” Yuri asked. 

Yuuri grinned, “If it isn’t, the hotel will.”

— 

“Doubles? No, I asked for a single king,” Victor blinked at the receptionist. 

“I see. We’re so sorry about that. You’ll both be fine with the king?” 

Victor’s confusion was growing by the minute. Admittedly, he hadn’t gotten much sleep on the flight, but he didn’t think he was _that_ out of it.

“Both?” Victor asked.

“You and… Ms. Altin?” the receptionist asked. “That’s the other name on your reservation.” 

Otabek, who’d been waiting in line behind Victor, turned at the sound of his name.

There was a beat of mortified silence on Victor’s part before Otabek stepped up. “Forgive me. Is that the only reservation for Otabek Altin?”

The receptionist clicked through the computer for a moment before responding: “Yes it is, sir.” 

“And the hotel is fully booked?” Otabek continued. 

“For the event, yes sir.”

Victor pressed a hand to his face, snorting. 

“So much for sweet innocent cubs,” he muttered under his breath.

“We’ll take the two doubles,” Otabek said.

“Of course, sir.”

—

“I can find another hotel,” Victor said as they walked into the room. He’d been making excuses since the elevator. “Sometimes I take too long in the shower, and my morning routine is —”

“Victor. I sleep with a Prima. You can’t possibly be as bad,” Otabek said.

The Kazakh lifted his carry-on to the luggage stand and opened it, hanging up his costumes, sticking his clothes in the dresser. “Besides,” he continued. “We’ve shared a bed before.”

How could Victor forget? 

With both their boys in between them, Otabek had felt miles away, and yet _present_ in a way so powerful Victor had hardly been able to sleep.

“We have,” Victor agreed, then laughed, and even _he_ could tell how awkward it sounded. He covered it with a soft cough. “I liked that night. I mean… seeing him like that, and being together, all of us.” Victor busied himself with his own suitcase.

“Me too.”

Victor blushed. “I was worried about him, at first. So unrealistic, wanting all that from you - Yuuri even yelled at me, early on, for encouraging him. Not yell, but. Well, there was no way to live up to those expectations, was there? But look at what you’ve done, now, with —”

“I never imagined you were a nervous rambler,” Otabek cut him off. Victor looked up from his suitcase, in which all he’d managed to do was rumple the clothes from one side to the other. Otabek leaned against the dresser, hands at the edge, gazing at him.

With a swallow, Victor sifted his fingers through his hair, unable to control the flow of words. “Well, I — I’m not normally nervous…” And he glanced through the strands at the Kazakh. 

Otabek’s head tilted, like evaluating something, or waiting for something, and Victor had never felt a gaze so heavy. 

He couldn’t bear it.

“Are you going to do it?” Victor whispered. 

Otabek pushed off the dresser and came up alongside Victor, just the proximity of him like a blazing sun, so bright Victor could see nothing else. 

“What did you teach me, those first few lunches?” Otabek asked. “That I should ask my sub what he wants, even if I already know?”

The space between the pair pinched, almost closed, but at the last minute Otabek twisted, taking the shirt that Victor had been hopelessly fanning. He folded it and set it aside to go in the dresser, doing the work Victor was too frazzled to manage.

“I can…” Victor started, sheepishly watching Otabek organize his things. His hand joined Otabek’s, grabbing for his slacks, but Otabek caught it, cupped those delicate pale fingers in his darker, stockier set. 

“You can’t. Not right now. You’re too nervous,” Otabek said. He didn’t let go of Victor’s hand. Instead, he curled around it, making a cup into which Victor’s fingers dipped. His thumb latched across those digits, brought them to his mouth, and he whispered to Victor’s knuckles while looking him straight in the eye: “I’m making you nervous.”

He followed Victor’s Adam’s apple as it bobbed. 

“Yes,” Victor admitted. A lip-parted hesitation, and then: “It’s the expectation, isn’t it? The cubs setting this all up, giving us permission…” Victor eased his fingers from Otabek’s hold, tucking them beneath Otabek’s chin, cradling his cheek. “How are you so calm?”

Otabek’s eyes washed over Victor’s face. That space between them was a thin dancing line; a hand slicing them apart would touch on both sides.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

Victor’s thumb brushed Otabek’s cheek bone. “Us?”

The faintest pressure warmed Victor’s palm as Otabek shook his head: “How powerful it makes me feel to command Victor Nikiforov to his knees.”

Victor swayed like the world had rocked beneath him, and Otabek was there to catch him, twin sturdy limbs bracing his hips. Silver lashes fluttered as he recovered, utterly captivated by the Kazakh. 

“Do you want me to kiss you, Victor?” Otabek asked. The space between had finally disappeared, abdomens flush together, the heat of each other anchoring. Victor stared at Otabek’s lips.

“Otabek I —... I’m not like Yuri,” Victor whispered. His skin tingled under Otabek’s breath. 

“I’ll be gentle,” Otabek promised. Somehow the intensity of his eyes increased, to ensure Victor understood. “You know the words to use.” 

A beat passed, those electric blue eyes frenetic as they scanned Otabek’s face. The Kazakh repeated himself:

“Do you want me to kiss you?” 

Victor’s helpless, stuttering nod was endearing in a way Otabek hadn’t anticipated. He pulled Victor closer, squeezing the air from between them, and hooked his arm at Victor’s waist while the other combed through those silver strands and steadied Victor’s skull.

“Hold still,” Otabek commanded, voice a whisper vibrating Victor’s lips. “Like this.” The hand in Victor’s hair pulled back, stretching Victor’s gorgeous jaw upward, and Victor, trembling, kept it there.

Otabek slid his fingers free and reached into his back pocket for his phone. He held it to the side, flipped the camera to face them, and once satisfied with the composition turned his attention back to Victor. 

— 

“Oh fuck - Yuuri - Yuuri - Oh, _god_ , Yuuri!”

Yuri’s cries had gotten louder over the past several minutes, the blonde teen wailing with abandon as Yuuri pummeled into him. They’d been at it for at least an hour, working themselves from a gentle love-making session into this violent, brutal fuck. 

Yuri was bent over the table, ass in the air, feet spread as far as they could reach. The napkin container and wooden vase that normally occupied the table’s center had long since clattered to the floor, displaced by Yuri’s flailing arms or shaken off the edge from Yuuri’s furious pace. He’d reach the depth and force that made Yuri gasp with every thrust, the pitch of his voice heightening as the motions grew hard and powerful enough to hurt.

Not that Yuri ever wanted it to end.

He’d come once, early on, a few minutes into the fuck, but Yuuri hadn’t stopped, and Yuri had been powerless to stop him. Now he was hard again, dick bobbing, purplish with enough blood to explain Yuri’s lightheadedness (not that the shrill, banshee style sex cries helped his oxygen levels). They were both drenched in sweat, slipping against each other, utter messes of lube and fluids slamming together at top speed.

“Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!” Yuri shrieked. “Yuuri!” 

Yuuri joined him, words punctuating every thrust, rabid: “Fuck! Yuri! Close! Yuri!”

“Yuuri!”

“Yuri!”

“YUURI!”

They screamed together as Yuuri broke him, flattening Yuri against the table and bottoming out hard as he came. As they both came. As Yuri made a mess on the floor.

_bzzt bzzt_

The last thing in the world Yuuri cared about was his phone, but the whole reason he and Yuri — (was Yuri OK? He rubbed at Yuri’s shoulder, shaking) — had gotten so involved in the first place was imagining what their men were doing in Japan, and there were very few other people with cause to text. 

“Wh—“ Yuuri’s voice gave out, throat raw from the screaming. He swallowed and tried again: “Where?”

Yuri just laid limply over the table, glad to have it supporting his weight. He flicked one hand, all that he could manage at the moment, towards the floor. 

That’s right. Yuuri’s phone had been on the table, was knocked aside when he threw Yuri down onto it. 

Yuuri lifted himself enough to glance under the table.

His phone was covered in cum.

“Terrible… aim…” Yuuri panted. 

_bzzt bzzt_

The reminder alert went off and a picture notification appeared. From Otabek.

“It’s Ota.” And suddenly Yuri was trying ineffectually to lift his chest off the table, to rise. Yuuri knelt down, not sure he’d be able to get up again, and a moment later groaned in pain as Yuri flopped onto him, knees unable to support his weight. They crashed together to the floor and Yuri slopped into his rival’s arms, holding onto Yuuri’s shoulders like he was a life saver. 

Yuuri rubbed the cum off on Yuri’s thigh, and Yuri was still too out of it to even notice. He’d reacted on instinct to Otabek’s name and now snuggled in an uncomfortable, out-of-it daze with his stand-in master.

“Oh,” Yuuri gasped as he opened the image. “Fuck.”

— 

Otabek held Victor in their pose to make sure the photo didn’t blur: Otabek looked darkly into the lens, Victor’s lower lip trapped beneath his teeth, pulled away. Victor was staring at Otabek, brow knit up in helpless thrall. When Otabek approved of the picture he let Victor’s lip go, flicking open Yuuri’s number one-handed and sending. That done, his attention returned to Victor.

“Good first kiss?” Otabek smirked. 

Victor dragged his tongue over his lip, re-wetting it, and let out a breathless: “Kiss? Hah.” He glanced up at Otabek, blushed, and his eyes fell back to Otabek’s mouth. All he’d felt was the scrape of teeth - a wonderful feeling, but hardly what he’d hoped for. 

Hardly what he’d been pining for, he realized.

“Come here,” Otabek said, reading Victor’s expression. His lips captured Victor’s properly, finally, heavenly, drawing the Russian into a deep, full-mouthed kiss. Victor sighed through his nose, eyes closed, still held against Otabek by that sturdy arm. Otabek’s mouth was gentler than Victor had imagined, even strong and forceful as it was. His lips were solid, thin, but the muscles and movement behind them was carefully controlled, almost tender. When Otabek pulled back, Victor rested his forehead against the Kazakh’s, breathing slow.

“Better,” Victor whispered.

_bzzt bzzt_

Otabek pulled out his phone again, Victor leaning against him as he clicked open the latest chat from Yuuri.

It was a picture of their cubs leaning against the leg of the kitchen table. Yuri was fast asleep, pillowed into the nook of Yuuri’s neck. His hair was a complete mess, a beautiful tangled halo, face shining with sweat and flush red from exertion. Yuuri, cheek resting on Yuri’s head, looked aroused, victorious, and content. Both were clearly well fucked, basking in afterglow. The caption was simple:

_Fell asleep before I could show him. Used him a little too hard, thinking of you two. Enjoy yourselves._

Victor blushed. “Thinking of us?”

“He said it was hot,” Otabek shrugged his shoulders. He kissed Victor’s cheek, then let the skater go, turning back to Victor’s suitcase and continuing to unpack. His fingers landed on the pile of Victor’s little black bikini briefs.

As if that did anything to help Victor’s level of embarrassment. 

He set them in the dresser without comment, with the same level of efficiency as all the others. Otabek sifted through slacks and collected Victor’s costumes, storing the former and hanging the latter with his own.

“Do you… want me on my knees?” Victor finally broke the silence.

The empty suitcase latched closed, nestled on the floor beside Otabek’s, and Otabek returned to his fellow competitor.

“Why?” Otabek asked.

“You… said it made you feel powerful,” Victor said. 

“Yeah.” Otabek furrowed his brow, studying Victor again, listening as those words bubbled up.

“If that’s what you want… I can,” he started. “I mean. I do want to do something.” He swallowed, stared at his feet, tugged at the soft silver hair at the back of his head. “For you, I mean. I—it —“ At least this time Victor realized he was hopelessly rambling and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “ _Baka_.”

Otabek wrapped his arms around Victor’s shoulders, closing his eyes as he touched foreheads. 

“You can’t even talk straight.” But there was a smile in Otabek’s voice. The Kazakh pulled his head back to look at Victor, arms still hung on his shoulders. “Come on, Victor Nikiforov. You need to rest. No more pressure tonight.” He ran his hand down Victor’s arm and pulled the skater towards the bed. At the edge, he kicked off his shoes, stripped down to his undershirt and underwear, and climbed onto the bed. There was nothing explicitly sexual, just that same cool, calm control Otabek always exuded. 

Still standing by the bed, eyes wide, Victor was the opposite: completely unaware that he looked like a deer in the headlights.

Otabek pat the space beside him, pulling him out of his shock.

When Victor was down to those tiny briefs, he crawled onto the bed. Almost by default, he came to rest on his knees, only to see Otabek shake his head. The Kazakh lifted an arm, making a space for Victor against his chest, and with a blush Victor scooted to be in the spoon of Otabek’s body. 

Whatever half hugs they’d shared before were no preparation for the statuesque reality of Otabek’s hold. He’d had hot stone massages before, and this was similar: heat and firmness. All muscle. 

“What now?” Victor whispered.

“Just this,” Otabek said. He pulled the blankets up over them, tucking Victor in and flicking off the bedside lights. “I said no pressure. No expectation. No more reason to be nervous.”

“I - I was fine!” Victor objected. 

“Everyone would be upset. ‘What did you do to Victor!’ ‘Why does he look like a tiny turtle!’ ‘Who—“

“ _Turtle_!?”

Otabek barked a single, tight chuckle against Victor’s hair, arm tightening around Victor’s waist in reassurance. “Besides. We can’t let the cubs tell us what to do.”

Victor snorted. Finally, Otabek felt the tension seeping out of him. The Russian relaxed in Otabek’s arms, all of that nervous, virginal energy starting to crack and fall away.

And Otabek realized he was cuddling Victor Nikiforov and pressed his face into that silver hair. 

“Imagine how it would go to their heads,” Victor mused. 

“Yuri already got what he wanted.”

Victor laid his arm over Otabek’s, absently scrubbing his thumb over Otabek’s knuckles. “I wonder what they think we’re doing now.” 

“Probably not this.”

_bzzt bzzt_

Victor reached for Otabek’s phone, but Otabek caught his wrist and pulled it back. “Don’t.”

It was another picture, a promise of something salacious, no doubt, but Otabek just laced his fingers with Victor’s and held him. 

“Leave them to their imaginations for now.”


	24. Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So once again I wrote an entire chapter that had to be scrapped, which in addition to taking up a week of time subsequently annihilated my drive. That's my only excuse.
> 
> ~however~ I think this chapter wound up better for it. It's a bit faster than normal, but we gotta get these boys through their season!
> 
> Oh! And for anyone reading the [After the Rejection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11016084) prequel, part 2 is coming this weekend!
> 
> As always, thanks y'all for being so wonderful <3

Yuri came out of the bathroom clean and horny, hair puffed from recent drying. 

“Yuuri, can we —“ Yuri paused when he found his rival half asleep in bed, idly watching a video on his phone. Yuuri glanced up, saw Yuri, saw Yuri’s erection, and knew exactly what he’d been about to ask.

“Oh.. mm,” Yuuri considered. “I’m too tired, but, you could have me?”

It only took a second of thought for Yuri to bob his head. He climbed onto the bed, petting Yuuri’s back while he wiggled free of his sweatpants and underwear. Yuuri left his legs in a loose Y, then hugged his pillow and turned back to his phone.

The lube was cool but familiar, followed by the curious pull of Yuri’s fingers spreading Yuuri open so he could aim. Yuuri stayed still until he felt the press of Yuri’s cock, then pushed up towards it, lifting to engulf a few centimeters and get Yuri started. The tiger followed through, burrowing inside and then carefully settling over his friend and rival. He laid over Yuuri’s back, resting his cheek on Yuuri’s shoulder.

He didn’t even really thrust, just snuggled, absently watching the video on Yuuri’s screen: one of Victor’s old routines. 

“I miss Otchka too.”

Yuuri frowned at the screen. “I wish I could be there for him. He’s always there for me when I compete…” 

“He has Yakov.”

“Yeah.”

Yuri arced his spine enough to ease into Yuuri, thrusting a few times, slow, while Yuuri watched his husband. 

“Was he your first?” Yuri asked. 

“Yeah.” 

Yuri’s breath was warm over Yuuri’s skin, but there was no other response or continuation, not even a hitch or shift to his thrusts. It was strange, Yuri had never taken Yuuri quite like this: slowly, unrushed, like he was soothing himself with the familiar motions as opposed to pleasuring himself towards the finish line.

Victor’s routine ended and Yuuri let the phone fall. He turned his head to the side, gazing at Yuri over his shoulder.

“I guess we have that in common, don’t we?” Yuuri said, evoking a blush in his kitten. It had almost been Yuuri, that day when he and Victor first taught Yuri about anal sex. But Yuri had still been antagonistic towards his Japanese rival at that point, and insisted on his mentor instead.

“Was he the first person you fucked, too?” Yuri asked.

“Mhm,” Yuuri confirmed. “I wasn’t very… adventurous. Before him.”

Yuri’s brow furrowed, thoughtful, as he kept humping his hips. Yuuri pulsed his muscles around Yuri, teasing: “What about you?” 

“Oh…” Yuri blushed again. 

The response intrigued Yuuri, and he jiggled his internal walls. “Tell me? Was it one of your Angels?” 

Yuri looked offended, “You can’t sleep with your fans!” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Yuuri smiled in reassurance. 

“Shut up! I’ve seen Hasetsu. You have plenty.” And just to slam the point home, Yuri… well, slammed his point home.

Yuuri gasped and laughed.

“Mmm. But mine don’t track me like scent hounds,” Yuuri said. He lifted his chin in invitation and Yuri begrudgingly kissed his rival, growling against Yuuri’s mouth until Yuuri deepened it from a chaste press into something more luxurious and loving. “Tell me then,” he whispered to his lover as he pulled back. 

Yuri continued to look bright red. 

“Come on,” Yuuri chuckled.

“You!” Yuri huffed at last. “It was you.” His face went scarlet while Yuuri’s eyes turned into full moons. 

“Yuri!” he gasped. 

“Shut up, okay?! _Blyad!_ ” and he pistoned his hips.

“That was your first day doing… _anything_?” Yuuri choked. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“I didn’t want you to think I was —” Yuri gaped, at a loss for words. “I was … I don’t know. A virgin or something!”

“But you were!”

“I didn’t want you to _treat_ me like one!” 

Yuuri’s mind was still reeling. “So…wait. Then… Yuri, am I the only person in the world you’ve ever fucked?” 

Yuri blushed all over again, burying his face into Yuuri’s neck as his hips stilled, just occasionally flexing into Yuuri without all the extra effort to thrust.

“…yeah.”

Yuuri’s heart clenched up, squeezed by an unseen hand. He shifted, separating them only long enough to flip so they were face to face. “Yuri…” Yuuri whispered, and he tucked the tiger back inside his body.

Yuri sank down, forehead resting against Yuuri’s shoulder. 

“I was your first?” Yuuri repeated, stunned. 

“Shut up,” Yuri groaned in embarrassment, but he hugged Yuuri’s torso as he fucked. It was _so_ gentle, completely counter to his normal jackrabbit style. Yuuri held him, petting his hair, curling his legs in a loose hug at Yuri’s waist. He could feel Yuri’s breath, feel the heft of his lungs, feel the easy glide in and out.

It wasn’t Victor. It wasn’t the love of his life. But it was love all the same, and as he felt Yuri’s body go still, trembling as he gasped, he couldn’t imagine being any luckier. 

— 

Victor Nikiforov’s name sounded and, after a smiling chirp to Yakov, he skated to the center of the ice. He was performing first, and in good form: his knee was braced in KT tape beneath his costume, feeling strong, and his chest was light. 

He’d woken up to find Otabek already gone, but the Kazakh smiled - actually smiled - when he saw Victor in the lockers. 

Victor didn’t see that smile now. In fact, he didn’t see Otabek at all.

The routine was over before Victor realized any time had passed; he’d let one of his quads turn into triple, pacing himself not only for the free skate tomorrow but the Grand Prix down the road. Still, a good run. Good enough.

In the kiss and cry Victor smiled and blew a kiss to the camera, knowing his Yuuri was watching, but as soon as they were finished he let his smile droop and turned to Yakov:

“Where’s Otabek?” 

No one seemed to know. Victor tracked the Kazakh to a back hall, talking in muted, stressed Russian. 

“— even _in_ St. Petersburg! How can I — No, that’s not what I said — _extend_ not _end_ the — don’t! — ” 

After a beat of stunned silence, Otabek dropped his phone from his ear, clenching it in his hand.

“You need to get out there right now,” Victor said. “You’re up next.”

Otabek couldn’t even respond. He pushed his phone against Victor’s chest, eyes the terrifying calm before a storm, and clomped away. Victor held the device, shocked, and it took several seconds before he thought to follow him. He made it to the rink just as Otabek started skating. 

Just in time to watch him fall. He got up immediately, but Victor had never seen the skater like this before. 

“DAVAI!” he shouted as Otabek came close. 

He looked down at his hands, realized he was white-knuckled around Otabek’s phone, and couldn’t help reading the text there. He didn’t recognize the name. 

_They’re coming on the third. Whatever is left they’ll trash._

He glanced up again, and Otabek locked eyes with him just before taking off into a quad. 

Landing it. 

Victor let out a trembling breath. 

“DAVAI!!” with renewed vigor. 

Otabek needed to come in second at NHK to make the Grand Prix. 

After his short program, he was in fifth.

—

In St. Petersburg, Yuuri sat beside Yuri, hugging his shoulders in support while Yuri texted Otabek. He did his best not to read, but it certainly helped when Victor gave him his own texts to focus on.

— 

In Japan, Otabek had finished showering off long before Victor’s locker routine was complete. Even still, Victor found him sitting on one of the benches, half clothed, staring at his phone. 

It sounded too patronizing to compliment Otabek on his recovery, or to reassure him that the free skate was what really counted. Otabek knew those things already, so Victor just sat down next to him, shoulders touching.

On Otabek’s phone: texts to Yuri. Claims that Otabek just hadn’t had his head in the game. Nothing about the phone call, nothing about the mystery text.

Victor smoothed his hand over his knee, and the tape, and the dull ache he’d never told Yuuri about, either.

Neither of them wanted to worry their cubs. Not this close to the finals.

“My landlord is kicking me out,” Otabek said. “I’ve got five days to find a new place and move all my stuff. I won’t even be back for three.” 

“That’s… not legal,” Victor frowned, but he’d guessed as much. Texted as much.

“I talked to him months ago about extending my lease,” Otabek said. “But never opened the paperwork he sent. It said ‘Lease Update’ and I just assumed…” His tone was something Victor had never heard before, tinged with self-loathing. 

Otabek shook his head, like he couldn’t believe himself. He’d been lazy, and the sudden stress of it all might have cost him the Grand Prix.

“You should focus on tomorrow,” Victor said.

“I need to take care of this, find a new place, call a storage service —“ Otabek started.

Victor set his hand on Otabek’s wrist when he lifted his phone again, pushing it back down. 

“Move in with us.”

— 

It hadn’t been a decision at all, really. 

When Victor texted Yuuri, filling in the situation and asking permission, Yuuri had immediately agreed, and an hour later he and Yuri were at Otabek’s apartment. They found the hidden key on Otabek’s bike and began boxing up the contents of Otabek’s home - not that there was much to begin with. 

By the time Mila arrived with her aunt’s truck and Georgi brought over his menagerie of cousins for the heavy-lifting, everything was stowed away in brown stacks - save for the kitten ears, which had _somehow_ wound up on Yuri’s head. Mila insisted on a ludicrous number of group selfies, including one - thankfully unposted - with a pink-striped dildo Yuuri had accidentally left out in the practice room. 

Thanks to Otabek’s sparse living style, it was all said and done in a manner of hours, and the Yuris opted to christen Otabek’s bed - if the floor mattress counted as a bed - in celebration.

— 

Otabek, dressed for sleep, stared at the picture in their group chat: four wooden carvings sitting on a tiny nightstand, reflected in the mirrors of the practice room. His room. Eagle and tiger, poodle and piglet. 

_Can’t wait for you to come home!_ from Yuuri. 

Victor emerged from the bathroom in a robe, toweling his hair.

“You did all this?” Otabek asked, voice strained in a different way than at the rink.

“Hm?” Victor sat beside the Kazakh, looking over at his phone. Their smiling cubs - Yuri with his freshly fucked daze - followed several silly instagram posts of the Russian team in various stages of packing, moving, and unpacking Otabek’s things. “Oh,” Victor smiled. “They mostly did it themselves.”

Otabek stared at the photos, then frowned at Victor. 

“I hardly know you at all.” 

Well, _that_ wasn’t what Victor was expecting.

“Yesterday. I know what Yuri likes, but you’re not Yuri,” Otabek said. “Every time we’re all together, you do things for everyone else. We never take time to do what _you_ want.” His brow knit at the center. “I don’t even know what you want.” Otabek rubbed the back of his head. “Then you go do something like this, and it’s like I have no idea how to ever repay you.”

That brought back Victor’s smile. He held out an elegant finger. “I know how.” 

Otabek waited, anticipating, but Victor took his time standing up, fetching a new pair of his bikini underwear, and discarding his robe and towel before he came back to bed. He laid down and beckoned Otabek to join him, the Kazakh sliding into place at Victor’s back, arm hooking around Victor’s waist. 

“How?” Otabek asked, finally, as Victor flicked off the lights. 

“Just like this,” Victor grinned, echoing Otabek’s sentiment the prior night. “You’ll need all the focus you can get if you’re going to beat me tomorrow.”

— 

Both Yuris cheered as Victor stood center at the medal ceremony, Otabek to his right after a mind-blowing free skate, Emil at his left. Yuri hadn’t realized how anxious he was until the moment Otabek’s score appeared and his place in the finals was secured. He sagged against Yuuri, who gave him a fortifying squeeze, then glanced to the clock. 

“One more round before practice?” Yuri asked.

One more opportunity to exorcise that nervous energy. 

Less than a minute later, Yuuri was under his tiger again, cupping one hand around Yuri’s ass. It was always surreal, feeling the muscles clench and tighten, knowing that they were driving a cock into his body. Yuuri could lose himself to that: the biological machinery of sex, the organic pistons and rotating joints that made Yuri’s cock glide into his asshole and out again. It was so intimate, feeling someone’s body work to penetrate your own, especially when it was the perfect paradox of Yuri Plisetsky: somehow both an angry, cruel teenager and an adorable, earnest young lover.

Yuri was huffing this time around, growling and groaning as he fucked, clawing at Yuuri’s hips like he couldn’t quite get exactly what he needed. 

“Do me instead,” he finally begged, pulling out of Yuuri, and Yuuri was all too happy to pull him right back down.

—

Victor and Otabek’s flight would leave in twelve hours, early enough in the morning that they’d arrive in St. Petersburg just before noon. 

But that was the last thing on Victor’s mind as his back slammed into the hotel door. 

Otabek’s mouth cut off his breath, firmness matched by the hands pinning Victor’s wrists above his head. Victor mewled against Otabek’s lips, flexed into Otabek’s strength. The Kazakh peeled him off the door, twisted, walked him backwards without ever breaking the kiss. When the backs of Victor’s knees collided with the bed he fell, Otabek atop him, and the oral assault continued.

“Where is it?” Otabek paused to ask.

“Lube?”

“Toy… — That, Yuuri said it was in your skate,” Otabek spoke against Victor’s teeth, somehow trying to kiss and talk.

Victor flushed. He’d hidden it while Otabek was out, but his gaze betrayed him, darting to his nightstand. Otabek sat up, straddling Victor, taking a moment to size up the international champion beneath him. Something about the gaze empowered Victor, brought back his confidence, and he lifted his chin as he fought away his blush.

“Do you want to fuck me with it?” Victor asked. “You can’t, all the way; it’s too big.”

“Too much for Victor Nikiforov?” Otabek pat Victor’s hip as he dismounted, going to the nightstand. “Strip.”

Victor unzipped his jacket, watching with a grin as Otabek opened the drawer. His eyes widened, just how Victor knew they would, and his lips opened in shock. 

“Victor... what the…”

Victor’s laughter filled the room. He pushed down his pants and underwear, arms a diamond resting on his knees. “Mmm. Chris bought it for me. My very first toy - do you like it?”

Otabek pulled it out, and Victor kept chuckling as the familiar, over-sized, glittery tentacle came into view. It was a ridiculous toy, hilariously long and wide, covered in knobby suction cups and filled with semi-transparent, swirling iridescent colors and sparkles.

“Princess,” Victor sighed, greeting it like an old lover. He laid out on his back, stretching his nudity across the bed, and had the lube ready before Otabek even asked. 

The Kazakh just shook his head.

“Princess,” he repeated.

“Be gentle, Otabekenka,” Victor said, tucking his knees to his chest. 

“I promised.”

— 

Otabek caught Victor’s spill in his hand when it ended, bringing the palmful to Victor’s lips as he cradled the Russian hero and fed him his own mess. Victor drank, the tip of the dildo still inside of him, muscles pulsing pitifully around those top, tiny suction cups. It showed the faintest glimpse of Victor’s red interior through that semi-translucent toy, which for some reason Otabek couldn’t get out of his head.

Victor lapped Otabek’s hand clean, then curled up in the Kazakh’s arms. 

“One more thing,” Otabek said, and he rose just long enough to open the mini-fridge. “Here.”

The juice was frothed and icy, sliding chilled down Victor’s throat, washing away the salty taste. He found himself grinning as he finished it, staring at Otabek in mixed amazement. How had he…? 

“Gentle enough?” Otabek asked, and Victor’s smile was all the answer he needed.

— 

“Come on,” Otabek said, wrenching Yuri’s arm. 

Yuri, flailing behind, barely had time to gasp: “Whe—“

“I need to fuck you raw,” Otabek said simply. Yuri’s eyes flew open. “I’m going to use that giant dildo, and I’m going to pump it into you until I can pull it out and stare into your stomach.” 

_Jesus christ_.

Victor had tackled Yuuri when the pair came out of customs, mouths latching tight, and Yuri’d had to suffice with a hug from Otabek, boiling with restraint. A glance at the face-sucking couple had set Otabek off, and now Yuri found himself dragged in Otabek’s wake. 

Otabek had twelve hours and a cross-continental flight to contemplate the week’s events, and by the end of it, gentle was the very last thing he wanted to be. Luckily, he had a boyfriend for that.

“We’ll do it on the bed. In front of the mirrors. So you can see inside yourself,” Otabek said. “And then I’ll watch them -“ a head nod towards Victor and Yuuri, struggling to keep up with Otabek’s furious pace, “— shoot their cum into that gaping hole.” 

Yuri tripped over himself, but it did nothing to extinguish Otabek’s drive. The tiger glanced over his shoulder at Victor in horror, like _what did you do_ , while the rest of his body had already sprung to terrified attention, so insatiably eager for the abuse.

“Lube,” Otabek demanded the moment they made it through the door, and Victor was there, scrambling for it.

“Dildo.” This one to Yuuri, who had tucked all of Otabek and Yuri’s playthings into a chest at the base of the mattress. 

“Ass.” But Yuri was already naked, already kneeling. 

“Such a damn good boy,” Otabek whispered, bringing his hand down in a hard smack on that exposed skin. The pink imprint bloomed even before Yuri finished screaming. 

It was joined by others over the course of the next half hour, as Otabek worked that long, textured phallus into his boy. By the end of it Otabek had all but the final few centimeters plunging into Yuri, who was completely subbed out. He stared to the side, drooling onto the comforter, while Otabek held Yuri’s waist in one arm and used the other to pound that toy into Yuri’s bowels. 

“He’s gaping,” Victor said, hand on Otabek’s shoulder to still some of the beast. “Pull it out and let us see.” 

Otabek withdrew the length, all the different textures roughing up Yuri’s already engorged and ruined asshole. 

As the tip finally came out, Yuri’s ass almost didn’t respond. The hole stayed open wide, the pinkish red innards of Yuri’s body clear for all to see. 

“Oh wow,” Yuuri whispered. He stuck his finger in the center, air all around it, and then tickled Yuri’s inner walls. There was a sympathetic twitch, an almost unnoticeable undulation of the glistening walls, but the muscle stayed open. 

“Put your cum in there.” 

Victor, swallowing, was already so close. He and Yuuri had been getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies as they watched Otabek brutalize his boyfriend, bringing each other to the edge again and again without ever crossing that line. 

They were ready. 

Victor knelt behind Yuri, aiming at that open bullseye. They all watched as soggy ropes of cum shot out into the waiting tube of Yuri’s ass. They could see it slurp down the red, agitated walls and pool several centimeters deep. 

“Now you,” Otabek turned to Yuuri. 

Yuuri nodded, taking Victor’s place and stroking himself, but he needed — 

“Victor…” 

All Yuuri had to do was whisper Victor’s name and the older Russian was there, beside him, bracing one hand on Yuuri’s shoulder while the other borrowed lube from the toy. Victor’s fingers pressed into his husband, seeking his prostate, wasting no time on foreplay or teasing or allusions to what they all really wanted. He pushed exactly where and how Yuuri liked it best, eyes still staring at Yuri’s open hole.

Yuuri’s cum joined his husband’s within the minute. 

They all stared at it, and Otabek found himself yearning to have a part of him in Yuri too. He swirled his tongue in his mouth, then spat as much saliva as he could down into that open asshole, slopping with the two men’s seed.

Good. All three of them inside his boy.

“Tiger,” Otabek whispered, brushing Yuri’s hair. 

Yuri’s eyes made a sorry attempt to focus. 

“Look what we did to your body.” 

Otabek lifted Yuri’s torso so the boy could look over his shoulder and see his cum-filled gape in the mirror.

But Yuri was too far gone, and his ass was finally starting to close around their gifts. 

Yuuri was the one who snapped several pictures to show the tiger later, then they all helped coddle him. Victor found a plug thick enough to still catch on Yuri’s destroyed asshole, which Otabek carefully fed into him. Yuuri brought juice and a straw that was far easier to slip between Yuri’s lips than an angled glass. Once they’d gotten him to drink, Otabek put his hand on the plug’s base as he held his boy, rocking him slowly, keeping their deposits locked into Yuri’s rectum to be dissolved and pulled into his blood.

Otabek loved that idea, Victor and Yuuri’s essence traveling through Yuri’s veins, all of them connected as messily and deeply in the physical world as they were emotionally. 

“Well. Welcome home,” Victor said.

Otabek grabbed Victor as the Russian rose, pulled him in for a crushing kiss, and Victor bent to Otabek’s force, whimpering into the affection. Then Otabek looked to Yuuri, who was whispering little Japanese nothings into Yuri’s ear to help pull him out of his trance. 

They’d never seen him space out so hard. 

Granted, he’d never been fucked quite so hard either. 

The first thing Yuri said when he came back was ‘love’ - just that single, unadorned word. Perhaps it was state or summary or explanation, perhaps request or affirmation. 

But he was loved. 

They were all loved. 

Victor pushed the tatami mats up next to Otabek’s mattress and covered them in quilts, creating one long, soft haven on which they could relax and enjoy each another. 

“Love,” Yuri repeated, clasping Yuuri’s hand, nestling under Otabek’s chin. 

“Love.”


	25. Titles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hit 800 comments! @___@ and I got some particularly sweet ones that made me just want to like, group hug y'all or something. I love that you love this! Thank you thank you thank you thank you <3
> 
> Special bonus thanks this chapter to [verity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity) for making me rewrite like, basically half the chapter. But it turned out way better <3 
> 
> Annnnnnd the Chris/Victor/Yuuri prequel [After the Rejection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11016084) is finished in case you want more of these guys~
> 
> I promise we're getting close to the collaring. Just gotta get some of this plot junk out of the way. Sorry folks!

Yuri burst out of the bathroom, buck naked, dripping wet, suds still in his hair. 

“Is Yuuri my boyfriend?!” he gasped, and the other three men (Victor and Yuuri snuggling on the couch, Otabek whittling at the kitchen table) looked up in surprise.

Yuri dripped on the floor while they blinked.

“Uhm,” Yuuri blushed. 

“Yuri.” Otabek’s voice was sturdy, stern. “Finish your shower. Dry off. Then we’ll talk.”

This was the first time Yuri realized he’d leapt out of the shower midway through. He glanced down at himself, the white noise of falling water still droning in the background. Yuri shook his head, like breaking out of a dream, and closed the bathroom door behind him as he retreated. 

Otabek continued carving as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Yuuri watched his face, trying to gauge his reaction, but there was nothing. 

In the few weeks since the move in, they’d been adjusting to each other’s more constant presence: figuring out bathroom schedules, cooking and cleaning responsibilities, and how Victor and Yuuri could get private time, given that their ‘bedroom’ was really just an extension of living room space. They’d purchased a folding divider, closing off their bed from the couch and TV. Yuuri had been so embarrassed at first, knowing the sounds of their slicking bodies carried easily over the flimsy separation, but Otabek had reassured the blushing piglet that it didn’t bother him, and Victor of course took it as an excuse for some gag play. Now, Yuuri was used to Otabek being there when Victor snuck up behind him and slid a hand down his pants, or bit his neck, or started to disrobe him. 

Otabek even watched, on occasion, and once Victor had turned it into an impromptu training session - demonstrating several of his little tricks for domming while Yuuri fell apart beneath him. 

Otabek’s presence also meant Yuri’s increased presence, much to Lilia’s dismay. And now here they were.

Yuuri spent the next several minutes sorting through his feelings on the topic while Victor continued to watch some local network Yuuri could never keep up with. When the sound of the shower cut off, Victor kissed Yuuri’s hair and rose, and Yuuri already knew what he was getting.

Setting aside his carving, Otabek rose to meet Victor, stilling his hands as he started to prepare tea. 

“Let me,” Otabek said. Victor hovered in the kitchen a moment longer, watching, and then gave Otabek space, returning to Yuuri on the couch.

By the time Yuri came out, naked and clean, Otabek was waiting by the door to the practice room, two mugs of hot tea in hand. 

“Come,” Otabek said, ushering Yuri inside. 

Yuri watched Otabek close the door behind them and blushed. 

“Sit.” 

Yuri went to Otabek’s mattress-bed, tucking up his knees as he sat on the edge. Otabek handed him one of the mugs and Yuri sipped it as Otabek draped a blanket around his naked shoulders. 

“Ok, Yurike,” Otabek said, sitting beside him, hand rubbing his back. “Talk to me.”

Yuri fidgeted, glancing at Otabek, then down again. “I — was thinking about Yuuri.” Yuri rolled his shoulders, taking a breath, and scooted closer to Otabek. “I love him. And… we have sex. And… he’s important to me.”

Each skater could feel the tension in the other, physical readiness to make up for emotional vulnerability. 

“Take a breath,” Otabek said. 

Yuri nodded, let out a breath far shakier than he’d expected. “I thought, maybe that makes him my boyfriend. Except… you’re my boyfriend. And… then I felt scared because nothing comes close to what you are to me.” Yuri bowed his head. “I don’t know what to call any of it.”

_What would Victor say?_ Otabek felt naked. 

“OK,” Otabek said. “OK, Yurike.” 

“I don’t — belong to Yuuri? You know?” Yuri continued. “I belong to you. I know I’ve made a big deal about the sex stuff but… that’s not why I want it so badly. I want the collar. I want you around my neck always. I want you to _own_ me. 

“But then, like, you didn’t ask for that. I don’t know if you want it. Or if I’m being too serious about it? All you said was that you wanted us to be boyfriends too. And then I thought, maybe everything with Yuuri is hurting you. And I —”

“Yurike,” Otabek whispered, kissing his cheek. “Yurike, listen to me?” 

“Yeah,” Yuri nodded. He set down his tea, leaned into Otabek. 

“I love you,” Otabek said. 

He’d… never said that before. Not that way. Yuri blinked damp lashes at his lover. 

“I love you,” Otabek repeated. “I love you no matter what you call it.”

Yuri’s words caught in his throat, came out as a stumbling hiccup. He threw his arms around Otabek, face pressed into the safety of his neck. 

“I think about collaring you every night,” Otabek whispered, pillowing his cheek on Yuri’s hair. “I never imagined wanting something as much as I want the world to know you’re mine, Yuri Plisetsky.” 

He rubbed the back of Yuri’s neck through his hair, hand tightening in a tender hug.

“I never thought I would have this. Intimacy. Sexuality. Satisfaction. You gave that to me. No one’s ever given me as much as you.”

“I love you too,” Yuri choked. “I love you so much, Otchka. I want you to have all of me.”

“I know. I do,” Otabek soothed. “That’s why it doesn’t matter if Yuuri is your boyfriend.” Otabek licked his lower lip, shook his head, and started again. “I mean - it _does_ matter, because it makes you happy. But it doesn’t hurt me or scare me. We might not have a word for what we are, but I feel it, and it’s the most important thing in the world to me.” 

“And me.”

—

Yuri and Otabek emerged a half hour later, Yuri leaning into Otabek’s solidity. Yuuri popped up from the couch at the sound of the door opening, and Victor followed lazily after, pretending he hadn’t been asleep. They flashed inquiring eyes.

“So… am I your boyfriend, Tiger?” Yuuri grinned. Yuri looked up at Otabek, who gave him an encouraging nod and a nudge in Yuuri’s direction. 

Yuri pattered to the couch, taking Yuuri’s hands as they sat, and Otabek followed until they were all settled.

“I wanted a word because you’re special to me; but I didn’t want it to be the same as Otchka. Once we realized he was more than a boyfriend - he’s my owner, too - it didn’t seem as scary to call _you_ my boyfriend.”

Yuri huffed, 

“If you want, I mean,” he grumbled, cheeks hot.

Yuuri chuckled, cupping that beautiful blush. “Boyfriend, hm? I’ve never had one of those. Victor and I went straight to fiancé.”

“Always surprise people,” Victor winked.

“Mmm. I think I’d like ‘boyfriend’,” Yuuri smiled. “How do _you_ feel about it, Victor? 

“Lucky that my husband’s boyfriend is so ridiculously skilled and gorgeous. And that I get to fuck him and train him sometimes, too,” Victor beamed. Both Yuris blushed to hear the term in use.

“So… boyfriends?” Yuri asked. 

Yuuri nodded. He used the hand at Yuri’s cheek to pull him closer, lips parting, and their kiss tingled like a first time. It started slow, just lips, and then Yuri’s tongue slid out, testing Yuuri’s taste, and Yuuri welcomed it, deepened it, moaned.

“Beautiful,” Otabek said, rubbing Yuri’s back.

“Yes,” Victor agreed. They two men shared a contented glance while their cubs kissed, Yuri with a feverish need, Yuuri with a relaxed, slow burning desire. 

When the pair finally pulled back, chests rising and falling, Victor grinned: “Does everyone feel good?”

“I’m hard,” Yuri grumbled.

“I meant _emotionally_ ,” Victor laughed. “But we can probably help you with that.”

As he leaned forward to touch Yuri, Otabek caught his wrist.

“No,” he said, his other hand tightening at the base of Yuri’s neck. “I’ll take care of my boy this time.” He lifted his brow at the other couple, releasing Victor’s hand: “You can watch.”

“Oooh,” Victor purred. “Look but don’t touch? My favorite.”

“Everyone _is_ okay, though, right?” Yuuri asked as Otabek’s hand curved around Yuri’s ass.

“Katsudon!” 

“I’m just making sure!” 

Yuri growled affirmatively, straddling his owner’s lap, stretching simultaneously into the hand at his neck and the one at his ass.

“Didn’t put your plug in?” Otabek asked, finger tip resting on Yuri’s winking asshole.

“Distracted.”

“I don’t want them to hurt you too much, when they fuck you,” Otabek said, squeezing Yuri’s throat. Yuri pressed into it, elevating his hips off Otabek’s lap so he wouldn’t make his owner uncomfortable as he thrust. 

“Sir.”

Otabek pushed his finger into the clean furrow, and Yuri paused his motions. He focused on relaxing, opening, until the digit slid in, fresh dry skin making the entry smooth. 

“Mm,” Yuri groaned. “It’ll be post season. They can break my body.”

“Gently.”

“I don’t want it gentle,” Yuri breathed. “It’s for you. I want to be ruined.”

Yuuri grunted, tightened his hands in the blanket.

“I saw Victor’s list today,” Otabek said. He groped the base of Yuri’s throat, thumb riding the top of his sternum. “Did you know he keeps a spreadsheet? Tracking health papers? Boundaries? Making sure everyone is safe and comfortable. So many people.”

“Chris,” Yuri gasped. 

“Yes.”

“Ph- Phichit?” 

“Not yet.”

“P-people on our team?” Yuri whispered.

“Yes.”

Yuri groaned and clamped around Otabek’s thrusting finger. “Not Georgi!” 

Victor chuckled. “He’s hopelessly straight, even covered in glitter and eyeshadow.” Victor was holding Yuuri in his lap, hands out of sight beneath the blankets, but Yuuri’s flush cheeks and parted lips gave away most of the unseen events. 

“…who?” Yuri asked. 

“Should we tell you, or let you be surprised?” Victor asked. “Otabek and Yuuri helped with the list. We think you’ll enjoy everyone. Even if you’re a bit embarrassed.”

Yuri flushed. “I want this!” 

“Hush boy,” Otabek squeezed. 

He manipulated Yuri’s body, getting him over his lap, facing the other couple, but kept his hand around Yuri’s neck for the moment, enough pressure that he could hear Yuri’s breathing. 

“Spread your legs,” Otabek said, helping Yuri widen himself out. “Hold them there.” 

He looked at Yuuri and Victor. 

“Do you like the way your boyfriend looks?” Otabek asked Yuuri.

Yuuri coughed his arousal: “He wants you so much.” 

“Yes,” Otabek said, roaming his territory. He pulled Yuri’s hair back, stretching his neck, then scraped his nails down Yuri’s shoulders, over the bumps of ribs on his back, to his softness. His hand came to rest in the small of Yuri’s back, bracing him with that ever familiar touch.

“How wide can you go today, Yuri?” Otabek asked, adding a second finger. Yuri yelped at the feel, at the scrape of it. 

“Sir!”

“Three is too easy for you now, isn’t it?”

The lube was under the center couch cushion. Yuuri grabbed it and held it out while his body arched up at a particularly good stroke from Victor. Its chill was a familiar promise to Yuri, soothing the track of his body. It melted into the cracks between Otabek’s fingers, greased the path for the third. 

“What about four?” 

Otabek pushed his three fingers into Yuri’s bowels, the texture familiar to him now, along with the sight of that ass spread out and clutching. He found Yuri’s prostate, jammed against it.

“Can you take four?” 

“Sir!”

He slid his pinky alongside the rest of his fingers as he pulled them out.

“Open wide.”

“Ota!” Yuuri blurted. “He has practice tomorrow.”

“I know.” And Otabek pushed his four fingers inside. 

Yuri’s spine went stiff, muscles in the small of his back knotting up at the sudden stretch.

“S-sir!” 

“Easy.” Otabek didn’t thrust his fingers, just kept them buried in Yuri. If anything, he wiggled the tips to caress and stroke Yuri’s inner walls, soothing his boy from the inside out. “I know you can handle this.”

Yuri took several deep breaths, fighting his natural inclination to tense up.

It gave Victor and Yuuri time to rearrange themselves. Victor got up from the couch while Yuuri turned to face the back of it, kneeling on the cushions, pants pushed down just enough to expose his ass. Victor didn’t bother, just unzipped and pulled his dick through the slit of his briefs to slather in lube. Yuuri had enough time to whisper ‘please’ before Victor was inside him.

“ _Victor_ ,” Yuuri groaned, eyes wincing shut.

“Push back when you’re ready,” Otabek instructed Yuri. “Go slow.”

Yuri nodded his head, watching the veins on Victor’s cock pulse every time he pulled out of Yuuri’s clutching asshole. He was close enough to their connection to smell it. He knew the scent by now, salivated for it and used that distraction to push himself back onto Otabek’s fingers, sliding up towards his knuckles. 

“You’ll be able to take my fist soon,” Otabek said. “After Worlds, if they don’t ruin you, I will.”

“Please,” Yuri gasped. 

“Shhh… fuck on this for now.”

Yuri complied, rocking himself onto Otabek’s fingers at half speed of Victor’s thrusts. God, it felt incredible. It was thicker around than any of his plugs, stretching Yuri farther than he’d ever been before. Otabek would make sure he was ready for his collaring, for everyone to use him. He squeezed around the digits, groaned.

“H-how many,” Yuri asked, staring at Victor and Yuuri, staring at his boyfriend, his boyfriend’s husband. 

Victor glanced over at Yuri, curled his lips into a smile.

“Eleven, including you,” Victor said. “Ten cocks inside you.”

Yuri’s face contorted as he slammed himself back onto Otabek’s fingers. 

“Ten,” Yuri repeated. “Otabek — will he —”

“I have a new toy for you,” Otabek said. “But Victor’s breaking you in. He’ll start. Show everyone how to handle you.” 

“I’m going to come,” Yuuri whispered. 

Victor reached for the tissues. 

“Wait,” Otabek said. “Boy. Serve your boyfriend.” Victor paused just long enough to scoot Yuuri closer, close enough that Yuri could get his head under Yuuri and his mouth around his cock. Yuri licked and sucked, swallowing hungrily on the taut skin. Victor kept his rhythm steady, pounding directly into Yuuri’s prostate, and the combined stimulation was far too much for Yuuri. Yuri felt the cock in his mouth suddenly inflate with cum and then burst against the back of his throat. He gulped it down, doing his best not to drool, and then suckled and cleaned Yuuri with his tongue.

Victor never lasted long when Yuuri was spasming around him, and with the sight of Yuri and Otabek beside him? He managed a few more thrusts, emptied into Yuuri, grunting.

The couple slumped together back onto the couch, Victor cleaning himself up, Yuuri curling to watch Yuri’s face as he pushed himself back onto Otabek. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Yuuri whispered. 

“Lilia would be very proud.” Victor held out a tissue to Otabek, who polished it over the tip of Yuri’s cock. 

“Please, Sir?” Yuri begged.

“Get closer.” 

Yuri pushed himself back, further, harder, angling to get at that spot that made him see stars. Right as he was about to come he gave a powerful heave onto Otabek’s fingers. His asshole slid around and over Otabek’s knuckles, until the upper portion of Otabek’s hand was buried inside Yuri, the ball of his palm surrounded in warm heat, thumb pressing into Yuri’s taint. Yuri howled.

“Come,” Otabek said, and he did. His body went taut, flexed, arched, and then collapsed into a pile of pale limbs and a shivering core, stretched around his owner’s hand. Something Victor had said suddenly sharpened into clarity and his eyes went wide.

“Lilia,” Yuri panted. Not the name any of them expected him to say after coming. “Lilia’s going to be so mad. I have to go back. I have to…”

Otabek hushed him. “Soon. Rest first.”

—

The lights were still on when Otabek’s bike pulled up. Yuri keyed open the door and found Lilia waiting in the foyer. 

“You need to be up in four hours,” Lilia said, not even bothering to look up. “Go to bed.” 

Yuri’s throat swelled with anger. He wanted to explain, make excuses, but instead he said “Yes ma’am” and disappeared towards his room.

Lilia’s cold eyes turned on Otabek, still hovering in the doorway. She rose, setting down her book.

“What will you do, if he loses?” Lilia asked.

“He won’t lose,” Otabek said, though he’d been asking himself the same thing. Too many times. “He’s never missed the podium.” Every competition Yuri had been in, since his senior debut, he’d earned a medal. 

“Do you have no shame for taking so much of his time?”

Otabek frowned. Lilia’s gaze was normally cool, but he’d never felt quite so judged.

“I give him something he needs, just as much as you or Yakov or Victor,” Otabek said. He kept his tone even, respectful. “I won’t apologize or be ashamed.”

Lilia’s brow arched, fingers tapping on her upper arm.

“So you are where he’s gotten his calm confidence,” Lilia mused. “He was so erratic before.”

“He needed discipline,” Otabek said. “And experience.” He looked skyward, collecting his thoughts, and then continued: “… I’m going to ask him to move in with me, after this season.”

Lilia’s face darkened, then smoothed out again. “What about his practice.”

“I’ll bring him every morning myself.”

_Tap, tap, tap_ , Lilia’s fingers kept drumming as the silence stretched between them.

“You want my approval,” she finally said. 

“He cares what you think.”

Lilia’s eyes narrowed. Otabek had never been the type to fidget, but he felt particularly self-aware in the stillness.

“I helped decorate him to meet you,” Lilia said. Otabek remembered the emerald jewels dripping off Yuri’s ear. They’d twinkled underneath the streetlights. “The boy was a shooting star, bright but aimless. He needed a sun to orbit.”

She sighed. 

“He has not practiced as often, as much, but I cannot deny his improvement,” Lilia said. “Perhaps you were exactly what he needed.” And then, with a lift of her brow, she corrected herself: “Perhaps you are exactly what he needs.”

Otabek felt a stiffness in his chest start to loosen. Lilia brushed the air away with her hand, dismissing. “Take him. …and take care of him.”


	26. Giving a Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK y'all we're entering the final stretch! Only one more chapter until Yuri's Big Day. Unfortunately we've got some plot to get through first. And its really late and I was cosplaying Yurio all day so there might be some missing words D8
> 
> Thanks to verity for mad structure advice!

Yuuri stood at the top of the podium, staring at Victor on the rink’s edge.

The tears he’d been holding back bubbled over, streaking his face as he bowed to accept the gold medal. Kimigayo boomed through the stadium, and it almost felt strange, not hearing the State Anthem. 

Yuri looked up from Yuuri’s right, noticed the tears and gave a nod of confidence. Yuuri managed a small smile for his boyfriend, then looked back to Victor’s shining pride. 

As soon as the celebratory photos were over Yuuri ran to him, clutching his coach.

“You should have been there,” Yuuri whispered. 

“I was,” and Victor lifted Yuuri’s ring to his lips and kissed it for the cameras.

Yuri and Otabek came up alongside them, Otabek draping an arm around Victor’s waist. It was odd, the rest of them in their spandex and Victor in formal coach attire.

“Did you tell him he had to get gold, since you couldn’t?” Otabek teased. 

Victor snorted, “Someone had to keep your boy in check.” 

Their smirks were tinged bittersweet, and they never mentioned Victor’s knee.

— 

“Our gold medalist,” Victor announced as he carried Yuuri over the hearth back into the hotel room. Otabek pushed Yuri in afterwards; he’d been grumpy about his loss, but the constant pressure of Otabek’s hand at his back and the cheerful look on Yuuri’s face were rapidly winning him over.

Yuuri laughed, arms draped at Victor’s neck. “No lecture about my free leg?” 

“Not tonight,” Victor smiled. 

He plopped Yuuri down in the center of the bed and then crawled on, Yuri and Otabek joining him. When Yuuri found himself the center of attention he blushed and pulled a pillow over his face. 

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor laughed. 

“Eh, Katsudon, come out,” Yuri added, tugging on Yuuri’s shirt. 

Otabek didn’t say anything, but his fingers slid around Yuuri’s ankle and squeezed, imploring. 

“He needs kisses,” Victor decided. He tugged ineffectually at the pillow. Yuri grabbed Yuuri’s shirt and lifted it up to expose a very kissable stomach. Otabek watched in curiosity, then tapped Victor to trade places. 

“Yuuri,” Otabek said, easily lurching the pillow from Yuuri’s grasp. Yuuri blinked up at the Kazakh, who bent and kissed his stunned expression. “You did well. Congratulations.”

“Th- THANK you,” Yuuri yelped as Yuri’s teeth found his nipples. “Yuri!” 

Victor was pulling down Yuuri’s pants and underwear, and all of Yuuri’s squirming protest was for naught. Victor pinned his hips open and started kissing his inner thighs. Yuri pressed Yuuri’s bicep to the mattress, and Otabek mirrored it on the other side. 

“Otabe—“ Yuuri started, but he was cut off by Otabek’s lips again. Otabek’s kisses were so strong, so solid, it was almost intimidating — even more so when Otabek slid his fingers into Yuuri’s hair to hold him in place. It struck Yuuri as the sort of thing he probably did to Yuri, and for some reason the idea made him shiver.

Yuuri’s spine arched off the bed as Yuri switched nipples, teeth grazing the budded flesh. He moaned straight into Otabek’s mouth and grabbed for whatever he could reach, which happened to be Otabek’s shoulder and Yuri’s ass. His husband had his legs lewdly spread apart and was half licking half kissing his path up the inside. Yuuri knew exactly what Victor wanted, but was surprised by how much he wanted it too. Filling Victor’s stomach with his seed? As if Yuuri needed any more of an ego boost today.

Yuri switched from teeth to tongue on Yuuri’s nipples, snuggling into Yuuri’s chest to suckle on the things like an infant. As he did, he dragged his nails up Yuuri’s side, adoring the elastic twist of Yuuri’s body in response. 

Otabek swallowed all sorts of sounds down his throat from Yuuri. Yuuri still couldn’t quite believe Otabek was kissing him.

“Otchka! Don’t enjoy it so much,” Yuri grunted, nudging his sir with a smirk. “You’ll make me jealous.”

Otabek lifted away from Yuuri’s mouth, but he still teased his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, playing the pads across Yuuri’s scalp as he gazed down at his boy. 

“Tonight is Yuuri’s night,” Otabek said. “Make him feel good.” 

Yuri gazed up at Otabek through his lashes, nodding with utmost obedience. Adoring Yuuri was not a particularly difficult task for the tiger. He went back to Yuuri’s body, holding at Yuuri’s hip, and continued to make a meal of the skater’s torso.

Victor had his own meal. His head was fully buried between Yuuri’s thighs, mouth overflowing with thick, pulsing flesh. The wet suction sounds were enough to make Yuuri blush, but he bucked regardless, unable to resist that hot, tight sensation. Victor took it all, allowing Yuuri to thrust a few times before he latched his hands onto Yuuri’s thighs, forced them down and apart, and started sucking his husband for all he was worth. 

Yuuri couldn’t kiss Otabek anymore. Not on the lips. He was too busy moaning, panting, so Otabek left kisses on his face, and then started exploring Yuuri’s jawline. Yuuri didn’t think much of it, enjoyed it as it turned into bites and suckling. Between the three of them, he was rapidly losing his mind. 

He’d never been the center of attention, really, and to have these three men all adoring him, all physically worshipping him — 

Yuuri squeezed Yuri’s ass, left nail marks in Otabek’s shoulder. He pulsed milky gobs into Victor’s mouth, stomach, and then went limp.

— 

At the banquet, Victor minded Yuuri’s alcohol intake, knowing how tempted the Japanese skater would be to drown his emotions. Between Victor dropping out, winning gold, and having to douse his neck in makeup to hide Otabek’s hickey (and the one Victor, out of playful competitive jealousy, had added to the other side), Yuuri was fraying. Victor had just slid the third champagne glass out of Yuuri’s hand when Phichit appeared. The thai skater had sneaked into the final when Victor bowed out. 

“Yuuri! What’s this about a post-Worlds party?” Phichit crooned. 

Yuuri balked. “Who told you?!”

Phichit flashed his most earnest, innocent grin. “How could you not invite me?!”

“Probably Leo,” Victor tsked, and Phichit’s expression confirmed it.

“You’ve got to take away his phone when he comes,” Yuuri groaned. 

“No phones allowed, don’t worry. Only Chris’ camera,” Victor tapped his finger to Yuuri’s nose. 

“Yuuuuuuri!” Phichit whimpered, tugging at his friend’s sleeve. “Everyone’s going but me!” 

“It’s —“ Yuuri grabbed Phichit and hissed. “It’s a sex party! You don’t even _like_ —”

“A party?!” JJ appeared, swinging his arms around both Yuuri and Phichit’s shoulders. Yuuri buried his face in his hands. 

— 

The made up party to satisfy JJ happened after everyone finished their nationals, and Yuri hadn’t for a second stopped gloating about beating Victor. 

“He _was_ recovering from injury, you know that, right?” Leo pointed out.

Yuri shrugged. “He was good enough to compete, and not good enough to compete with me.”

“You’re such an asshole.” 

“Yuri!” Victor flashed his winning smile at his young protégé. “Are you bragging about beating a crippled old man again?” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You’re still competitive and you know it.” But Victor had already moved on.

He flit like a hummingbird between little clusters of skaters. He was charming and attentive as always, the perfect if occasionally oblivious host. From time to time he drew someone aside, quiet conversations happening beyond earshot of the larger group. If his silver medal at Nationals affected him, he hardly showed it. He had a different focus now.

He gave a little ribbon to Otabek, who managed to wrap it around Yuri’s neck without much notice. Well. At least not much notice from anyone but Yuri. 

“What’re you…” Yuri started, touching his neck. 

“Measuring,” Otabek said, and he pinched the ribbon where it circled Yuri’s throat. Yuri watched him, filled with suspicion, until Guang Hong came over to distract him. Otabek brought the ribbon to Victor’s side, held it to a ruler, and then the two poured over a computer. 

“There isn’t very much sex happening at this sex party.”

Phichit’s comment made Yuuri spit out his drink. 

“Phichit-kun!”

Yuuri couldn’t hold back his instinctual smile at hearing Phichit’s laugh, albeit this time it was a wiping-alcohol-off-face sort of smile.

“Even dear Chrissant still has his shirt on. And I thought Georgi was straight,” Phichit mused, eyeing him and his girlfriend across the room. 

Yuuri frowned. “Do you _really_ want to come? If it means so much to you, I can talk to Victor…”

That made Phichit’s eyes sparkle. “Oh no, that sort of thing isn’t for me.” Phichit laughed, like how-could-you-be-so-silly: “I just wanted to turn down the invitation!” 

“…Phichit-kun.”

— 

There were six weeks after Nationals and before the Four Continents. Plenty of time for Otabek to ruin Yuri without impacting his performance. 

—

Yuuri woke up to the sound of Yuri’s scream. 

Victor was still sound asleep beside him, an immovable stone, so Yuuri got up and tip-toed to the practice room. When his soft knock went unanswered, he opened the door to find Otabek bent over Yuri, both on all fours. 

His forearm ended in Yuri’s ass, and Yuri was sobbing.

“It’s in,” Otabek whispered. “It’s in.” 

Yuri cried against the backs of his hands, nodding, his knees clenching as his body tried to protect itself from Otabek.

It felt like something private, something Yuuri shouldn’t be watching, but he stood, riveted, as Yuri adapted to such a momentous invasion. Otabek’s arm shimmered around the wrist, doused in lubricant, and his other hand was around Yuri’s softened cock, holding it, idly stroking the head, balancing the discomfort of his fist. Otabek kissed Yuri’s back.

“It’s in,” he repeated. 

The tiger cried for another minute before he quieted himself, tucking his legs underneath him and carefully, _carefully_ rolling to the side so he could curl up in fetal position. He caught sight of Yuuri and blushed bright red, looking away. 

Otabek saw the reaction, looked up to see Yuuri. 

“He— I heard him scream,” Yuuri apologized.

“He’s at his limit,” Otabek said. He must have done something with his hand inside Yuri, because the boy gasped and cried out again, fingers clawing at the blankets.

“Can I?” Yuuri asked. 

Otabek dipped his chin in permission and Yuuri stepped to Yuri’s side. He knelt, guiding Yuri’s head into his lap. 

“Yu… Yuuri…” Yuri whimpered. 

“I’ve got you,” Yuuri reassured.

Yuri’s tears slowed, and finally he relaxed into Yuuri’s lap. Otabek rubbed down Yuri’s back. 

“Ready, boy?” 

“Yes, Sir,” Yuri said. Otabek must have moved inside him. Yuuri saw nothing, but Yuri’s expression changed. His eyes went saucer-wide and he struggled to breathe. His nails scraped over the sheets. 

“How did that feel?” Otabek asked. 

Yuri’s mouth just hung open, gulping, as he tried to nod. 

The tendons in Otabek’s wrist pulsed, Yuuri’s only clue that something was happening out of sight. Yuuri stared at those veins, imagining the hidden ends of those cords, strings manipulating the puppetry of Otabek’s fingers, palm. Yuri’s tears picked up again, washing from the corner of his eyes, and Yuuri cleaned them away with a delicate finger. 

Tasted them. 

He blushed afterwards, even though the other two hadn’t noticed. 

Why had he done that?

By the time Yuuri overcame his confusion, Otabek had loosened Yuri enough to try drawing his fist out again. He collapsed his hand, straightening his fingers until his knuckles passed Yuri’s muscle: first out, then back in. 

“Oh… _god_ …” Yuri choked. “Sir… Sir…” 

Otabek massaged the small of Yuri’s back as his fingers slid closed again, fist plunging until it was seated. Yuri gasped, almost crying. 

“Otchka — Sir,” Yuri hissed. 

Yuuri found Yuri’s hand, squeezed. 

If Yuri tried to speak again, it didn’t come out as words, only a stuttering breath. Otabek eased his fist against Yuri’s muscle, feeling it suck on his knuckles. He softened his hand, letting the knob of his thumb pop in and out of that tight ring while the rest of his fingers stayed buried inside. The muscle seemed to gulp around him, futilely trying to swallow its oversized bite. 

“Your body…” Otabek breathed in disbelief. 

“What does he feel like?” Yuuri asked before he could stop himself.

“Soft,” Otabek said. He must have opened his hand inside Yuri, started to feel the walls and map the cavity with his touch. “Slick. I can feel it when he squeezes. It’s tight at the end.”

Another moon-eyed expression from Yuri as Otabek _felt_ him. 

Otabek’s eyes found Yuuri’s, raised a brow. “… Do you want to feel?”

Yuri’s fingers clenched, muscles of his ass activating and clamping down on Otabek, forcing his hand to fist inside him. Otabek snorted: “He likes that idea.” 

A jar of vaseline sat beside the mattress, open, grooved with finger marks. 

Yuuri deepened the furrows. He smeared the vaseline all over his hand, trying not to tremble. 

“Come here,” Otabek said, making room at his side. “I don’t want him empty.” 

The two came close, shoulder to shoulder. Yuuri set his greased hand right next to Otabek’s, and as Otabek started to withdraw, Yuuri pressed his fingertips in. 

“Yu-uuuri,” Yuri choked. 

Otabek’s hand cupped Yuuri’s, half-embedded in their boy, like the strangest handshake. Then Otabek’s fingers slipped free, and Yuuri pushed home. 

Victor woke up to the sound of Yuri’s scream.

— 

Victor’s cock filled Yuri’s mouth, quieting him as Yuuri’s fist stretched the boy’s ass. When Yuuri pulled it free, Otabek was there to replace it. The two framed Yuri, taking turns on every thrust, and Yuri had finally started to space out, succumbing to the constant assault.

“Boy,” Otabek said, tone firm. Victor stroked Yuri’s cheeks until he opened his eyes, like waking from a dream. Yuri glanced back at his owner, jaw still slack, Victor still thrusting into it. 

“I want you here for this. Stay with us,” Otabek said. 

It was another thing Yuri was practicing. He’d been so upset when he learned how Otabek had defiled him, cum and spit and more, all while Yuri had been too far gone to notice. He begged Otabek to work on it with him: to make sure he wouldn’t miss his collaring session.

Yuri blinked a few times, collecting himself, and then lifted his chin to swallow Victor down. He widened his legs for his men, gazing back at them, at the reflection in the mirror, where he could see his ass expanding in turn around their fists. Oh, _blyad_ , look at his ass. He pulled off Victor’s cock just for a second, just long enough to pant.

“Hurts,” Yuri whispered, feeling the pang all the way through his body every time one of those fists stretched him out. 

“Let’s stop then,” Otabek said. 

“No, finish,” Yuri begged. 

“You know I never finish,” Otabek replied. 

“I’m not hard,” Yuuri confided.

Yuri’s eyes ticked up to Victor’s. 

The Russian ex-champion smirked. “And here I thought you loved being on top of me,” Victor purred, finger brushing Yuri’s lower lip. 

“Victor —“ Yuri started. He growled, fists digging into the mattress, and then loosened his hands again. “Please.”

“Please what?” Victor cooed, his smile stretching ear to ear. 

“ _Please!_ ” Yuri huffed, growling. “I’m empty!” 

There were very few things Yuri hated more than being empty. The void was particularly upsetting after the fisting. 

“Didn’t I teach you how to beg?” Victor tsked. “Have you forgotten your lessons already?” 

Yuri’s cheeks flared bright red. He bared his teeth. He wasn’t used to submitting to Victor. He’d gotten out of practice - and after beating him in Nationals? 

Yuri yelped as one of Otabek’s hands clapped across his ass. He didn’t have to look back to know what Otabek wanted. 

“Please, Victor,” Yuri muttered. “Fuck me until you come. I need you to top me.”

“Come again?” Victor teased.

“I need you on top of me!” Yuri roared. “Just do it!”

Victor shooed Yuuri and Otabek playfully, wiggling his way behind Yuri. He spooned some of the vaseline out, despite his cock being slick with saliva. If Yuri was already hurting, he was going to keep his fuck as smooth as possible. 

“Tighten up,” Victor said, rubbing the cheek of Yuri’s ass and thumbing his hole, teasing it until he felt the inner muscle start to clench. 

Then Victor slid in. It was so easy. So simple. They all snorted at the sound it made, air whooshing out of Yuri’s used hole, making his blush blossom again. Yuuri and Otabek sat back to watch, taking turns toweling off their hands. Yuuri’s exhaustion flared up again. He leaned on Otabek’s shoulder, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from his husband’s body. 

“Help me, Yuri,” Victor said, squeezing the boy’s ass cheeks. “Keep begging. Tell me how much you like me topping you.”

Yuri was exhausted too, physically and emotionally, and the idea of spacing out, of letting his mind relax and his body simmer in the sensation was overpowering. But Victor squeezed him again, and Yuri licked his lips as he thought. 

“I love being under you. You taught me how to move, dance” Yuri whispered. “Whatever I am - you helped me get here. You trained my body… My heart, too. You — ”

Victor blushed, subtle enough that only Yuuri noticed. 

“Yuri…” 

“Shut up,” Yuri cursed. “Shut up and just enjoy me.”

Fuck. He’d meant for it to be sexy, erotic, but instead it just came out sappy. He pushed back on Victor, meeting the thrusts, even as it burned. “You made me. You made this. You —“ 

The air rushed out of him as his words sparked a fire in Victor. The elder Russian bucked, plowing into Yuri’s body, heedless now of the boy’s previous usage. 

“— should enjoy me.” 

Victor came. 

He pulled his cock out as it softened, grabbed the towel from Otabek and Yuuri and wiped. Otabek had a plug inside Yuri in moments, tucking it in until the curved base was flush in the groove of his ass. Yuri promptly curled up, eyes closed, utterly content and spent despite never having come.

“Victor.”

Yuuri took his husband’s hand and drew him from the room, turning off the light as they left so Otabek and Yuri could sleep. 

“Did I do this?” Victor purred to his husband as they returned to their bed, bodies rinsed. He felt between Yuuri’s leg. “I thought you weren’t hard?”

“Then I saw you,” Yuuri admitted. “Victor…” 

“Shh,” Victor laid him down, tugged off Yuuri’s underwear. When he slid onto his husband’s cock it felt like coming home, and he balanced his weight with palms spread over Yuuri’s abdomen. Yuuri bit into the soft side of his hand, the hand that had been inside Yuri, watching the shadowy shape of Victor above him and feeling the tense warm envelop of Victor’s body around him. 

“Do you need something in you?” Victor asked after a few minutes. He reached behind him, between Yuuri’s legs, tickling his balls along the way. Then he pulled his fingers back, suckled them, and wiggled them into Yuuri. 

“You inside me, me inside you,” Victor smiled. 

“Victor…” another breathless sigh. Victor rose higher, slammed down, as much as he could with his hand anchored in Yuuri. He found that place inside, that place that drove Yuuri crazy. 

And Yuuri was coming before he even touched it. 

It was a quiet orgasm, a rush of air past Yuuri’s lips after a timeless moment of frozen tightness.

As they lay together afterwards, twined in each other’s arms, Victor pressed his smile into Yuuri’s neck. 

“He’s ready, isn’t he?” Victor grinned. 

“He’s ready.”


	27. A Season for Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The dreaded **PLOT CHAPTER**. 
> 
> Please consider my posting within a day as a heartfelt apology for plot ^-^
> 
> Y'all are amazing.
> 
> THIS IS IT.

Yuuri missed the Four Continents podium, but it was worth it to see Otabek on top of it. 

It was worth it to see Yuri so proud.

“That was incredible!” Yuri pranced beside his boyfriend, leaping at his side and gesticulating wildly. “Your quad flip! When did you learn that!?” 

“While you and Yuuri were busy,” Otabek said, glancing at Victor. Victor had silvered again, which he _thought_ would save him from Yuri’s gloating - but Yuri was too elated by his boyfriend’s victory.

“You got gold! _Gold_ , Otchka!” Yuri laughed. “You beat all of us! Even Victor!” 

Otabek didn’t know what to say. He watched his boyfriend’s energy, felt a similar cathartic joy inside of him, but as opposed to Yuri’s full-bodied manifestation, it only touched Otabek’s lips. They were still in the rink. He couldn’t press those lips to Yuri’s the way he wanted to.

The way that Victor and Yuuri did.

“… Take me out?” Yuri asked after a moment, perhaps seeing that subdued desire. 

“Hm?”

“To celebrate. We can get all dressed up,” Yuri said. Otabek draped an arm over Yuri’s shoulders, slick costumes brushing together. It wasn’t that no one knew. His angels all knew. They were smart. But they’d never _admitted_ it.

“Tonight?” Otabek’s win was all the more of an upset because the two Russians had lost in their local rink, but the competition being in St. Petersburg had its advantages. 

“Mm.” 

—

Yuri went home to Lilia’s to prepare, Victor helping him, while Yuuri helped Otabek with something completely different. 

“They love you,” Yuuri reassured. “It’ll be OK.” 

Otabek had been staring at his phone for fifteen minutes, already dressed and ready for his evening with Yuri. The only sign of his distress was the time he’d spent waiting. His eyes were calm, his breathing steady with intention. 

He exhaled. 

Picked up his phone. 

“Hey mama,” Otabek started. His eyes lightened. “I did. Thank you. — Yes, gold, but — Mama… that’s not why I called. Is papa there too?”

The rest of the conversation Yuuri couldn’t understand, but he knew by Otabek’s body language when he reached his point. 

They both held their breath. 

—

“I came out to my parents,” Otabek said. 

Yuri stopped mid step, only Otabek’s sturdy arm holding him up. Yuri looked… like a goddess. Otabek still couldn’t believe it was real, this androgynous beauty draped against him. They’d returned to the place they had their very first date, and as before Yuri had dressed to the nines. His eyes were thickly shadowed, hair braided half up, half falling over his shoulders, with Lilia’s emeralds on his ear. Otabek’s jacket hung off his shoulders, effecting a lazy sort of beauty over his waif-like form. Everything on him was designer, the shirt sliced to reveal his back. Or, it had, before he’d gotten chill. 

“And?” Yuri asked, keeping his form and posture on Otabek’s arm. They were watching him - they were _all_ watching him. The performers were different this time around, but sensuous still, and the couple stood at a bar table near the stage with their drinks in between sets.

Yuri had been dancing. 

It was the sort of dancing that, if Otabek was one to get aroused, he was certain would have driven him crazy. Instead, it was seeing everyone else ogling his boy that stirred something deep inside the Kazakh.

Otabek couldn’t help touching Yuri’s neck, thumb and forefinger curving around like a half-collar. Reminding.

“It could have gone better.” 

Yuri frowned, setting a hand on Otabek’s stomach. 

“I’m sorry.”

Otabek’s fingers lifted from Yuri’s neck, delicately holding the line of his jaw. 

“I’m not,” Otabek said. “I’m ready for everyone to know.”

Yuri blinked his lashes, shy. “You want me to tell my Grandpa?” 

“Not until you’re ready.” He watched Yuri’s weight shift and slid his hand up beneath Yuri’s shirt, resting at the small of his back. “Yuri?”

Yuri’s eyes flit up. Otabek had to raise his voice as the next band began to play.

“Don’t worry tonight. Dance for me.” 

Yuri worried, but his body was beautiful all the same. The floor before the stage was too small to contain him, dancing amidst the crowd like he had his own spotlight. Otabek didn’t dance, but he _watched_.

When Yuri had soaked up the attention like a sponge he came to Otabek and twined his arms around Otabek’s neck, body still undulating in time to the music, still dipping low and angling out his ass as he rose. Otabek gazed at Yuri, then away, looking off while Yuri moved for him.

Yuri craved that ultimate show of power. That everyone could be looking at him, and he at his master, and Otabek was cool as frosted glass, gazing away almost bored with exposure to Yuri’s body. 

He gave an open-mouthed pant at the feeling and clenched around the plug in his body. Otabek’s jacket slid down his shoulders and off, exposing more of that sweet milky skin. After what felt like eternity Otabek finally touched him, palming the small of his back and pulling Yuri up against his side. Yuri wasn’t allowed to grind against Otabek, so he settled himself, just rocking his shoulders, keeping a serpentine allusion to the beat moving through him without upsetting his Sir. 

“You want to go home?” Yuri purred. Otabek snorted, spun his boy around, and pushed him back out into the crowd. 

Yuri started to tease, running his hands along his body, but when he looked back to check, Otabek was gone. 

Yuri kept dancing through the hour, until the set ended, body gleaming with testament to his exertion. Again, he tried to find Otabek. 

“Buy you a drink?” someone asked behind him. Yuri twisted around.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes still hunting the crowd. 

“Come on, your guy left.”

Yuri shook his head faintly. 

“He won’t see,” the man persisted, hand clasping at Yuri’s wrist. Yuri pulled away with a snarl, twisting his hand away.

That was when the next performer came on stage. Otabek looked down on his boy from beneath the spotlight. 

After he recovered from his initial shock, Yuri smirked at the stranger, snarl still curling his nostril. With a dismissive flick of his ponytail, he glided to the front of the dance floor and gazed up at Otabek in utter adoration. Otabek gave him a subtle nod of acknowledgement before tucking his headphones into place and starting his tracks. 

The prior band had been a mixture of rock and techno, and Otabek pushed it farther, darker. Otabek’s music was _angry_. 

Yuri loved it. 

He beat his fist into the air, jumping on his toes in time. Otabek normally played a diverse mix, but this set?

Every song was for Yuri, and they both knew it.

A few people tried to dance with Yuri, to glide into place in front of or behind him. Each time Yuri would glance up at Otabek, get a nod of permission or shake of denial, and move towards or away accordingly. One stranger even picked up on the dynamic, and instead of going up to Yuri, caught Otabek’s eye and gestured towards the jumping pixie, like _may I?_

With Otabek’s blessing, the woman came up alongside Yuri. They were the same blond, only hers was cut short, masculine where Yuri was feminine. The tempo slowed, primal, and she pulled Yuri’s body against her own. Yuri hadn’t really danced like this before, not with a woman, but Otabek nodded Yuri on, and so he let her manipulate them together, until he was grinding towards her pelvis. 

Getting hard.

He blushed.

She laughed.

Her fingers tangled in his loose hair, and she guided one of his arms around her waist. It was easier that way, to grind. She had a few inches on Yuri, gazed down into his eyes while they danced. His kept flitting to Otabek, but if anything, he encouraged Yuri, the next song a bass-pounding opportunity for physicality.

Yuri had to draw away, red-cheeked, before he came, and retreated to the bathroom.

The bass became a feeling more than a sound, far away in the quiet of the stall. Yuri leaned against the wall, tilted his head up, caught his breath.

Two feet stopped outside the door. 

Not Otabek’s boots.

Yuri went quiet, waiting for the boots to leave. They turned at the sound of the bathroom door swinging open.

The woman’s voice rang out: “Hey. You blind? Stall’s occupied.” 

“Hell’re you doing in here?” 

“Making sure asses like you don’t do anything regrettable.” 

Yuri forgot to breathe until the boots left the stall. The man cursed her on his way out of the bathroom. 

“You okay, kid?” the woman asked. 

“Fuck that guy,” Yuri spat. 

“Yeah.” 

Yuri brushed his hands through his hair and came out of the stall. On the plus side, he’d lost his erection. 

“Your man’s only got another five minutes. You could hang here till then. He saw you go in,” she said. 

“I want to dance.”

She held out her hand in question, and Yuri slipped his fingers between hers, let her guide him out of the bathroom and back to the dance floor. The stranger was nowhere to be seen. 

The dance wasn’t the same, the intoxicating fever muted, but Yuri still glittered in deference to Otabek. He found himself lingering near the woman, matching rhythms with her hips. She shepherded him until Otabek finished and came around to fetch his boy. 

“Thanks,” Otabek said simply. She nodded and turned to go without a word, but Yuri caught her wrist. When she turned back he opened his mouth but found he couldn’t quite articulate anything. With a blush he looked away. 

“Thanks,” he whispered. 

She snorted, ruffled his hair, and walked away. 

—

Yuuri sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, trying to think of absolutely anything besides the competition tomorrow. He’d somehow managed to exhaust his Instagram feed, which prior to today he wouldn’t have thought possible. Everyone else was out exploring the new city, but Yuuri lingered in the hotel until late, and was still sitting up when Victor returned, sleepy-lazy, and oozed into Yuuri’s open arms. 

“Yuuuuuuri,” Victor crooned. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri smiled, laying Victor out, tugging the covers up around his shoulders and petting his hair. The sheets had that starchy stiffness, and Victor went through all six pillows before shoving his favorite one under his head. Hotels.

Yuuri slipped under the sheets beside him, noodling up to Victor’s side. They looked at each other until Yuuri blushed - Yuuri always blushed first - and then Victor chuckled his victory and kissed the top of Yuuri’s bent head. 

“How’s your knee?” Yuuri asked. 

“I didn’t practice.”

“But —”

“It didn’t feel right,” Victor said. 

Yuuri knew better than to say anything else. Victor always did precisely what he wanted to do, and nothing was going to change his mind or make him do otherwise. So Yuuri just scooted closer, annihilating the lingering distance between them, and slid his knee between Victor’s. 

He kissed Victor’s nose. 

It scrunched in response, and Victor gave it an extra wiggle for dramatic flair. His hand came to rest at Yuuri’s waist, rubbing the valley between his hip bone and lower ribs. They stayed quiet like that, taking turns offering little kisses. Yuuri felt the usual competition nerves flowing through him, a constant buzzing current in the pit of his stomach, but every gentle touch from his coach helped silence it.

“Things are going to be different, aren’t they?” Yuuri whispered at last. 

Victor’s eyes, which had been half-lidded, opened fully, and he frowned as he brushed his thumb over Yuuri’s cheek. 

“Some things,” Victor said. 

Yuuri leaned into Victor’s touch. 

“Things feel so different already, don’t they? From last year, even?” Yuuri asked. “Everything with Yuri. Otabek.” 

“Our family’s gotten bigger. But not everything’s changed,” Victor said, finding Yuuri’s hand and gliding his thumb across the ring.

“No,” Yuuri sighed, arms coming up around Victor and snaring him in a fierce hug. He took a deep breath of Victor’s scent, behind his ear, into the wispy thin hair. This was his home. His truest home. No matter what happened, no matter how things changed, he’d always have Victor’s comfort. Safety. Love.

“Do you think Yuri will say yes?” Yuuri whispered. 

“People have done crazier things,” Victor squeezed Yuuri’s side. Yuuri smiled to himself. 

“I want us all to be happy together.”

“We are.” 

—

Yuuri held Victor’s hand, standing next to Yakov at the rink’s edge. 

“Are you ready?” Yuuri squeezed.

“Of course,” Victor beamed. Yuuri didn’t know how Victor could do it: show up every competition, calm and focused and excited. 

“Make history, Vitya,” Yakov said. 

Oldest skater to win gold at Worlds? Seventh gold overall?

Yuuri kissed the ring on Victor’s finger. Yuri had beaten Victor’s short program score, but not by much. Victor could do it. 

Victor could win.

“Yuuri,” Victor purred. He cupped his husband’s cheek, then floated backwards, away from the edge, into the center, into the spotlight. 

— 

“You’re retiring, aren’t you?” 

They were all together in Victor and Yuuri’s hotel room, prepping their formalwear. Victor was inspecting his tie in the mirror, adjusting, but Yuri’s words brought him to a halt. 

Yuri continued: “Go out on gold. That’s what Katsudon was going to do. I had to stop him.” Yuri frowned, tearing up. “But I couldn’t stop you.” 

“Yuri…” 

“And Yuuri wouldn’t skate without you,” Yuri was rapidly falling apart. He’d been trying to ignore the sinking feeling since the podium, when he’d seen Victor so proud but so… sad. The way he’d looked out at the crowd, the way he’d taken his final lap? It was a goodbye. Yuri knew it was a goodbye. And now that he’d voiced that fear his resolve shattered, words cracking and wet. “He’s retiring, too. You’re both leaving. You just haven’t said anything because you didn’t want to ruin the party.” 

And as Victor frowned, turned to sit beside Yuri on the bed, he knew that he was right. 

Victor laid his arm across Yuri’s shoulders, hugging the tiger to his side. Yuuri and Otabek came out of the bathroom, hearing Yuri’s distress.

“We haven’t announced anything,” Victor said. 

He glanced up at Yuuri, and Yuuri _knew_. 

Yuri had his face in his hands, shoulders quivering. Crying. 

“But I’m right,” Yuri choked. “I’m right. You’re leaving.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Victor said, rubbing Yuri’s shoulders. “I’ll still choreograph your routines. I’ll still be at the rink.” Victor’s tacit confirmation evoked a sob from the tiger.

“Doing _what_?! You’re a terrible coach!” Yuri yelled. “Yuuri didn’t even get gold!” 

Victor let out an amused breath, squeezing Yuri’s side. “Should we punish him?” 

“Shut up! I’m angry!” 

Yuuri sat down on Yuri’s other side.

“No, you’re sad,” Yuuri whispered. “It’s okay to be sad.” Most things for Yuri came out as anger, regardless of the underlying emotion. Yuuri set a hand on his knee. “We can’t skate forever.”

“What’re you going to do? What am _I_ going to do?!” 

“Win gold medals,” Yuuri said, trying to draw Yuri into his lap, but the kitten wasn’t having any of it. He stayed hunkered down between Victor and Yuuri, face in his hands. Yuuri continued: “I’m going to… well… I haven’t decided yet.”

“He’s going to be my house husband,” Victor chirped.

“ _Victor_.”

“I hope,” Victor amended, finger sagely in the air. 

Yuuri threaded his fingers with Yuri’s. “We’re staying in St. Petersburg. We might go to Hasetsu for a month or so, but we’re not going to move. We couldn’t. Some crazy souls _do_ want Victor to coach them.”

“And we can go to all your competitions now,” Victor added. “You won’t have to do any alone anymore.” 

Yuri rubbed his face, staring at the floor. 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving…” 

Victor nuzzled Yuri’s cheek, sighing against his hair. “You always wanted time for the spotlight to be yours, and yours alone. Now’s your time, Yuri. I’m the past. You’re the future.” 

Yuri turned to Victor, eyes still wet, and climbed into his lap, hugging him so tightly. Victor blinked in surprise, glanced to Yuuri and Otabek. They both nodded encouragement, and Victor surrounded the tiger in his arms. 

“It’s okay,” Victor whispered. 

Yuri’s lips found Victor’s, kissing slow, and Victor’s eyes fluttered shut. 

“Victor,” Yuri whispered into his mouth. 

“I’m here.” Victor promised. “I’ll always be here.” 

“I can love you too?” 

“ _Kotënok_ … always.”


	28. The Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **BUNCH OF NOTES TODAY**
> 
>  
> 
> 1) My wrist has been seriously acting up and I'm blaming most of my delay and shoddy editing on that. (We'll ignore the mountainous plot fails and rewrites. Blame the wrist.)
> 
> 2) WOW if I learned one thing from all the comments last chapter (which I've been SO BAD at responding to, I'm sorry) it's that we all have very different ideas about how old our crew is in this series ;) You naughty things, you. 
> 
> 3) I wrote two intermediate blurbs that probably should have just been their own chapter. I highly recommend reading them first: [Russian Princes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9345557/chapters/25326063) and [Russian Honeymoon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9345557/chapters/25395654).
> 
> 4) We somehow hit 900 comments. I'ma go die now. Have I said thank you too many times yet? Cause thank you.

Yuri woke up two minutes before his alarm was set to go off, surging with nervous excitement. On instinct, his hand came to his throat, fingertips brushing the bare skin. 

Today was the day.

— 

The morning belonged to him, and he spent it running, feet carrying him along the shore and then up into the city proper. It was hard to believe Otabek had only arrived in St. Petersburg a year ago. It felt like another lifetime. Everything they’d done, all the progress they’d made. Yuri’s training, their first date, that painful navigation of who and what they were together… all of it had happened in a matter of months. 

And now… Yuri paused at the crest of a street, before it turned back down towards the residential valley and Lilia’s sprawling house. He touched his collar bone as he considered his home, his future. A future with Otabek, _belonging_ to Otabek, and everything that entailed. How long had he been this fierce, independent tiger? And yet, how eagerly he craved that collar, that belonging. 

How eagerly he wanted to be Otabek’s boy.

Yuri started at the sound of an engine backfiring at the corner. He’d grown used to running with Otabek or Yuuri and Victor, and it was strange to find himself alone with his thoughts. 

—

 _Can you come over?_ Yuri had texted Otabek last night, after tossing and turning in bed proved futile.

He lingered by the door so Otabek wouldn’t have to knock and attract Lilia’s attention (for all his time at her house, he still hadn’t figured out when she actually slept), and surprised himself with how tightly he hugged his boyfriend on arrival.

“What’s wrong?” Otabek asked, following Yuri to his bedroom. 

Lilia never let Yuri close the door when boys came to visit, so they left it half open and Otabek sat on the edge of the bed while Yuri paced in front of it.

“Yuri.” 

He stopped, pausing in his tracks to turn to Otabek. Otabek held open his arms, widened his legs, and Yuri stood in the space between, head bowed. Otabek’s hug was just as firm and solid as it had been when they first got together. 

“I know we don’t have my things but…” Yuri blushed.

Otabek tightened his arms in encouragement, searching Yuri’s face.

“… can we play kitten?”

Otabek’s expression sparked with fondness, pulling his boy close and cupping his skull to whisper near his ear.

“You want to be my little kitten?” Otabek said in a hush tone. “So I can pet you to sleep?”

He felt the soft scrub of Yuri’s embarrassed nod, then the jostle of Yuri’s legs as he daintily climbed onto the bed beside him.

“But first I want to be a tiger,” Yuri said. “…. And you capture me. To make me your kitten.”

This was new.

Otabek twisted to watch Yuri prowl to the center of the bed, loose t-shirt hanging off his frame, tiny pajama shorts hugging his body. The red marks on his feet were only just starting to fade into the off-season, a skater’s version of stripes.

Lazily at first, Otabek reached for Yuri’s ankle, but the tiger growled under his breath and pulled his limb away, out of reach. If that’s how this was going to work… 

After standing to discard his jacket, Otabek walked the perimeter of the bed, Yuri’s lazy feline form slinking opposite him, keeping distance. Otabek wasn’t about to rough house on Yuri’s bed, knowing Lilia could walk past the door at any moment. There was no warning when Otabek snapped forward, his hand like a viper going for Yuri’s wrist. He savored the brief flash of surprise on Yuri’s features, then followed that hold with his body. 

Underneath him Yuri squirmed, simultaneously alarmed and delighted to find himself struggling beneath his boyfriend. He snapped his teeth in play, flexed and arched his spine, and for every motion he made Otabek simply coiled tighter around him. 

“Shh, Tiger,” Otabek whispered, and a hand came to Yuri’s throat. 

He repeated it by Yuri’s ear (“Shh, Tiger”) as he squeezed. 

“You don’t have to fight any more,” Otabek whispered. “You don’t have to be so strong. You don’t have snap your teeth and swipe your claws.”

Yuri struggled against him.

“I’ll take care of you now, Tiger,” Otabek promised. “I’ve got you.”

With a flutter of his lashes Yuri let those words sink in, like sedative for his muscles. He was breathing heavy with exertion but at Otabek’s words he gave a mighty exhale and melted underneath his keeper, turning to clay and conforming to Otabek’s body.

“That’s it,” Otabek whispered. He squeezed Yuri’s neck, just once, quickly, and then kissed him. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

Yuri stayed passive beneath the kiss, completely subdued, and finally nodded, gazing into Otabek’s eyes with a monk’s adoration for his lord. Otabek loosened his grapple, drawing the puddle of his kitten close. He sat against the headboard, Yuri’s head in his lap, and threaded his fingers through Yuri’s hair, down his back and thigh. They were long, luxurious pets, designed to sooth and tender.

“Sweet kitten,” Otabek whispered. “Sweet Yurike.”

Yuri’s lashes lingered together, flitting occasionally open but the promise of Otabek’s safety was the headiest drug, and he wanted nothing more than to _rest_. 

He’d worked so hard. 

All of his life, Yuri had worked so, _so_ hard.

“Let go,” Otabek whispered. “I’ve got you.”

—

Yuri fell asleep under Otabek’s affection, and didn’t see when Lilia’s silhouette came into the door frame. He didn’t see the studious way she took in the scene, nor the calm response of Otabek’s eyes, protective of his kitten even then. Yuri didn’t see the nod that Lilia finally gave Otabek, nor the one he returned, and missed entirely when Lilia grasped the doorknob and silently shut Yuri’s door.

— 

Otabek was already gone when Yuri woke up, but Yuri had asked as much. He hadn’t wanted Otabek to see him until tonight. Until he was _ready_. 

Yuri returned home from his run, showering and grabbing lunch before he met Chris at Victor’s recommended waxing joint. It was the first of many preparations for Yuri to feel absolutely perfect. He couldn’t be anything less for Otabek - especially not with so many people seeing him. He’d already gotten his hair trimmed, and Victor recommended a fancy facial several days ago, the resulting breakout Yuri had just recovered from.

Those had been painless, even enjoyable. But Yuri wasn’t so sure about this.

With huffing embarrassment, he insisted Chris come back to the room with him. There was some confusion over just how naked he had to get (“ _Naked_ , naked,” Chris purred) and then he was lying on his back on a padded table covered in flimsy roll out paper. It felt more like a doctor’s office than any sort of spa.

“What style do you want?” the specialist asked. 

“Full Brazilian,” Chris responded on Yuri’s behalf. “And toes.” 

Yuri glared.

“Mhm. Butterfly,” the waxer said, and for good measure tugged Yuri’s knee.

Yuri bent his legs until its soles were flat together, then tucked his heels up to his balls in a flattened diamond.

“Wow. Flexible,” the waxer said, grabbing Yuri’s feet and tugging them down out of the way. 

The moment Chris went to take a seat, Yuri’s nails tightened around his hand and dug in between the bones, keeping him close. Chris managed only a grimace of discomfort.

“First time?” the waxer asked.

“What gave you that idea,” Chris chuckled. 

“Tsch,” Yuri grumbled, looking away. 

The waxer, looking decidedly bemused, smeared the first glob of dark, purple-black wax into the crevice of Yuri’s left hip.

“H-hot!” Yuri choked, squirming. Chris put his hand on Yuri’s knee, keeping his legs apart. 

“Hold still,” Chris warned.

The waxer eyed Yuri, smoothing out the goopy substance with a tongue depressor, and then turned the temperature down on the heater while that first patch hardened. Another glob went on the opposite hip, and then the waxer plucked at the dried one, grabbed the edge, and without any preamble ripped it clean off. 

“FUCK!” Yuri screamed. “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!” 

“One down,” Chris grinned. “Only twenty or thirty more!” 

Yuri’s eyes bugged out, staring at Chris in horror. For the next twenty minutes, the room filled with screamed curses as Yuri’s body was violently relieved of its pubes. The only thing that kept him on that table was the thought of Otabek. He wanted every single person at that party to be in awe of his body, to appreciate how clean and soft and strong it was, how well groomed and well trained. He wanted to see Otabek’s eyes when he showed him - filled not with arousal, not like everyone else, but with pride, knowing how arousing his boy would be to others.

How desperately he wanted to make Otabek proud.

By the time they reached his taint Yuri’s screams had become simple snarls of displeasure, focusing more on the future. He realized, at some point, that he’d never released his death grip on Chris’ hand. The Swiss skater had stayed, silent and supportive, right at his side through all of his screaming, just looking content and swiping his thumb along whatever skin of Yuri’s he could reach.

“Thanks,” Yuri muttered. 

Chris glanced down at him, bat his beautiful lashes: “Don’t thank me yet. It’s not over.”

As if on cue, the waxer said “Legs up,” and thwapped Yuri’s thigh. 

“Eh?” Yuri asked. 

“Like a baby getting changed,” Chris said. 

“This is humiliating,” Yuri grumbled as he lifted his legs in the air, ankles crossed, exposing his ass. 

“One piece of advice,” Chris murmured as the waxer brought over another dollop of wax, oozing off the tongue depressor. 

Yuri glared at him. 

“Don’t clench.” 

“Wha—?” 

But by then, the waxer had dropped the dark blob between Yuri’s cheeks. However hot it had felt on his sensitive inner thigh, this was multiplied tenfold. 

He clenched. 

The wax squished between his cheeks and hardened, gluing his ass together. 

Chris winced. The waxer looked about as miserable as Yuri.

“On the plus side,” Chris said, flipping open the itinerary Victor had sent all of Yuri’s helpers for the day, “it only gets easier from here.”

—

“And then he had to, like, dig in and tear it out, but it was all stuck and I felt like, every hair, ugh,” Yuri groaned. He slumped in his chair, vibrating from the force it used to ‘massage’ him. 

“Chris was right,” Mila said, and the woman working on her nails was the only reason she didn’t reach out to pinch his cheek. “You should never clench.”

“Yeah yeah,” Yuri grumbled.

“Are you going to do it again?”

Yuri shrugged in consideration. “If Otabek likes it.” And by that he meant ‘if everyone Otabek makes me fuck likes it.’ Then Yuuri’s smiling face popped into his head and Yuri blushed. He’d been so concerned with Otabek, he hadn’t even considered whether his boyfriend might enjoy it, too.

“All this for him, hm?” Mila sighed into her seat, wiggling her toes in the water as the pedicurist rinsed her foot. “I remember when I was young enough to fall in love like that.”

“I know what I’m doing, baba!” Yuri glared over at her.

Mila shrugged. “It’s cute.”

Yuri just snarled. It wasn’t _cute_ and it wasn’t some puppy infatuation. Yuri had seen people be dumb in love before. Especially Mila. What he felt with Otabek… there was no one in the universe who would ever be like Otabek. It was easy as the ice. It was simply _right_ , through and through, to the very core of all Yuri was and all Yuri wanted.

“Hey,” Mila said, like she’d caught him scowling off into oblivion. “I wouldn’t have driven across the city with Georgi’s cousins in my trunk if I didn’t believe in you two.”

Yuri’s scowl softened, and he snorted to cover up that slip but Mila caught it, nudged him with her elbow. 

“I mean it,” she grinned. “You two are perfect.”

— 

Otabek and Victor had already left to prepare the penthouse when Yuri arrived at their apartment, nails trimmed and polished, limbs scrubbed with all manner of salt and sugar and fruit slice. 

He met Yuuri with a series of kisses, before they’d even managed to get started on his next step. Yuri met him with an open mouthed embrace, tongue sliding out to taste his boyfriend, enveloped in his arms and hard.

Yuuri looked the perfect mixture of happy and dazed when he pulled back. “So excited for tonight?”

“So excited. Feel…” Yuri took Yuuri’s wrist and guided it down the front of his track pants. He hadn’t worn any underwear, leaving his freshly denuded skin available in full. Yuuri’s knuckles brushed over the bare triangle of flesh leading down to Yuri’s cock, then wrapped around it, squeezed, and continued below to cradle his silky balls. 

“Wow,” Yuuri emphasized, blowing out a quick breath. “It’s so smooth.”

Chris had taken Yuri to his hotel afterwards, touching up, tidying the hair elsewhere so everything was neatly trimmed. He plucked a few pesky remaining hairs and used a depilatory cream just to make extra sure. He’d even kissed the tip of Yuri’s semi-hard cock, and for a moment Yuri thought he’d get a blow job - only Otabek had told him to wait. Twenty four hours. _Let it build_.

Having his boyfriend’s hands down his pants really didn’t help.

“Do you like it?” Yuri asked, hopeful, and Yuuri just gave out a bemused “Of course!” before finally pulling Yuri into the bathroom.

He’d almost forgotten the discomfort of the water until Yuuri filled him again. He knelt on hands and knees while Yuuri massaged his abdomen, and this time he practiced staying present, feeling _everything_ as it stretched him and cleaned him. It hurt less, but whether for Yuri’s adaptation or Yuuri’s loving kisses, he couldn’t say. 

“How do you feel?” Yuuri asked. He kept idly playing with Yuri’s asshole around the enema hose, sometimes slipping a finger in, feeling the warm solution, while his other hand curved over Yuri’s pregnant belly. 

“Full,” Yuri managed, face tense from the water’s constant pressure, the gurgling chug of it through his system. “Ready. I want this.” 

His erection came and went depending on the cramps, but when it was full and hard Yuuri always paid attention to it, coddling it in his palm and brushing his thumb over Yuri’s sensitive spot. 

Yuuri helped Yuri lay down on his side and they sat together, watching a kitten live cam Yuuri had found, while the solution did its work inside of him. Though he was looking at the video, Yuri’s mind was elsewhere, thinking about the first time he’d cleaned himself out for his Otchka. How uncomfortable it had been. How much it was worth it. 

How much Victor enjoyed it. 

As it went on Yuri started to sweat, then shiver, and finally he squeezed Yuuri’s hand. “I can’t do any more.”

Yuuri waited outside while he emptied, then did a final short rinse, until Yuri ran clean. 

—

Once his bare body was as clean as could be, inside and out, Yuri found himself back at home again. 

For some reason, this part of the day terrified him most. Whatever lingering buzz he’d had from Yuuri faded.

“Lilia…” Yuri started, finding her in her reading chair. She glanced up at him, eyes sharp as ever, and he ducked his head, scrubbing the back of his neck. “Do my face.” 

He winced. That hadn’t come out right. “Please.” 

She arched her brow. 

Yuri resisted the urge to crumble his spine under that withering gaze; if anything, he straightened for her and tried again: “Please, would you help me with my face?”

She took him to her bedroom, to her vanity, and he sat before the mirror, eyes lingering on the counter. Her hands fell to his shoulders, delicate points resting on his collar bone.

“How would you like to look?”

Yuri had spent a long time thinking about it. He would be bare - that’s what Victor told him. Just his body. Just… Yuri. 

“Like a work of art,” Yuri replied. “The most beautiful I can be.” 

Lilia’s perpetual frown softened. 

Yuri went quiet as she worked, hair first. She drew her fingers through the strands, separating it to braid. It was longer than the first time she’d done up his hair. She braided several thin, twisted strands at intervals, then drew them together into a larger braid wrapped around the base of his ponytail. It was tight (it always was, with Lilia), but that discomfort was reassuring, welcome.

“You know Otabek and I…” Yuri started, when she turned him around and dusted foundation onto his face. 

“I know,” she said. Yuri blushed. 

She added subtle lines to his eyes, brushed a light mascara onto the tips of his golden lashes. The shadow she used was barely different from his skin tone, just shimmery, and she dabbed light highlights into the corners of his eyes. He held perfectly still for her, lips parting so she could glaze them with an equally minimal, rosy sheen.

“Do you… think he’ll like this?” Yuri asked. 

“I think he likes you very much,” Lilia said. 

—

It was cool enough to walk to the hotel without sweating, the wind gentle enough to rustle his ponytail without disrupting his braids. Yuri made it to the hotel and took the elevator to the topmost floor. He hovered for a moment outside the door, thumbing the keycard Yuuri had given him earlier. Otabek was inside this suite. Otabek and Victor and Yuuri and soon all of the men Victor had found to test him.

Yuri touched the emeralds at his ear, the only adornment he’d have on his body. “Keep it,” Lilia had said, “It’s perfect for you.” 

When Yuri finally swiped the card and entered, Victor’s smiling face looked up from a leather-decked apparatus and lit the vast, luxurious suite. 

“Yuri!” He said. “How beautiful!” He stood up, beckoning the boy, and Yuri went to his arms. 

“Otabek’s not here?”

“He’s in the our room,” Victor said. He gestured to one of several doors on the edges of the opulent, open living area. The wall held a glass view of St. Petersburg and their private, rooftop deck, complete with small pool and hot tub. 

“Wow,” Yuri breathed.

“Nice, hmm?” Victor looked terribly proud. “Six hours and you’ll be collared. Then you can relax and enjoy the amenities.” He winked.

Six hours. Oh, _blyad_. This was actually it. 

Yuri’s hands clenched at his sides.

Six hours and he’d belong to Otabek. Formally. Officially. Properly… and for everyone in the world to see.

He swallowed.

Chris came from the kitchen area, setting out stacks of bottled water throughout the living room. That’s when Yuri noticed the other little details: pump bottles of lube, shallow dishes filled with condoms, stacks of tiny hand towels and so many tissue boxes and miniature trash cans. Next to the leather apparatus was a cluster of items: a long-spouted turkey baster, a sharpie, a large display digital clock, and ample blankets and pillows spread out around the apparatus itself. Yuri had seen something like it before at the club: a low table someone could be bound to on all fours, wrists and ankles locked down for easy access.

Yuri shivered.

“Do you want to see your room?” Victor asked.

He guided Yuri by the shoulders to a door marked by a doodled “Otabek + Yuri” sign (Victor’s doodle, obviously). Inside was an exquisite master bedroom but all Yuri could do was stare at the twinkling fiber optics embedded in the ceiling, designed to look like stars. 

“Victor really wanted this to be our room, but I forced him to give it to you,” Yuuri snickered, coming up behind the pair. Yuri glanced back, found Yuuri’s hand. 

“We’ll just have to come back again,” Victor beamed. He nudged the two Yuris inside. “I have to keep setting up, but you two enjoy yourselves.” And he closed the door behind them. 

It didn’t take long for Yuuri to wrap his arms around Yuri, twining the smaller skater in a tight hug. His hands started to creep down, like to undress Yuri, but Yuri spun around to face him, head shaking. 

“There’s one more thing I have to do,” Yuri said. “Before everyone can know that I’m his.”

“What is it?” Yuuri’s brow knit at the center, sensing Yuri’s sudden gravity.

Yuri reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone. He thumbed through his contacts until he found what he was looking for, and Yuuri didn’t have to read cyrillic (though he was getting better) to recognize the picture.

“Are you sure?” Yuuri’s frowned. “Now?”

Yuri nodded, the same self-assurance he had in everything. 

“He has to know first.”

— 

Yuuri sat beside Yuri, holding his free hand, while he called his grandpa. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting: tears or trembling words or hesitance, but Yuri approached it the same way he did the ice. Straightforward, confident, and powerful. Yuuri was struck by how different it was from Otabek’s call.

Yuuri only caught a few words, Otabek’s name, but Yuri’s expression grew brighter over time, until Yuri was beaming, nodding though his grandpa couldn’t see it. He ended with a promise and then hung up, chest elevated with happiness and pride and relief. 

“It went well?” Yuuri asked. 

Yuri nodded. “Grandpa said he knew already, but he was glad I told him.” Yuri’s smile stretched from ear to ear, a unique sort of joy only his grandpa could evoke. “He wants to meet Otabek next time we skate in Moscow!” Suddenly Yuuri had two little tiger arms around his neck, clutching onto him. He couldn’t help but laugh, so happy for his companion.

“That was the last step, then, mm?” Yuuri said, hugging Yuri in return. “You ready to get dressed? Or… er… undressed?”

Yuri laughed and nodded, standing up and shucking himself free of his clothes. He’d only worn a zip up hoodie over his chest so he wouldn’t have to worry about his hair, and when he was naked Yuuri grabbed the bundled white fluff on the bed.

Yuuri draped a skimpy but incredibly fluffy robe over Yuri’s shoulders and then tied it closed. It matched the one that Yuuri was wearing… mostly.

“Are those cat ears?” Yuri blinked, looking at the hood. 

“Only yours has them,” Yuuri said, tapping the custom _Y P_ monogram, because of course Victor had gotten them custom monogrammed robes for a gang bang. “Victor thought it was cute. You’ve got a tail, too.” And he twisted Yuri so he could see the extra fabric falling down from the waist tie. 

Yuri didn’t bother asking how the robe fit so well, like it had been sized for his body. 

“I can’t believe he did all this,” Yuri said.

“Victor doesn’t express himself like most people,” Yuuri mused. “Sometimes he doesn’t know how to say something, or he’s too afraid to, but…” Yuuri draped the hood of the robe ever so carefully over Yuri’s braided hair, showcasing the kitten ears properly. “He always makes you feel it.”

— 

Chris came in, equally robed, and took a few photos of the boyfriends. That was when they heard the first knock, and Yuri realized he had no idea who it might be, but suddenly the night’s situation was very, _very_ real. 

“Damn,” Yuri said, standing up and bouncing on his heels. He pulled out his earbuds and started stretching. It was the best way he knew to pass the time and get himself pumped for a performance. And this was, if nothing else, his ultimate performance. His ultimate gift to Otabek.

The music was a mix Otabek had made for him, a playlist Yuri begged for after one of Otabek’s sets. It was everything Yuri wanted to be: beautiful, strong, energized, and brilliantly loud. 

It drowned out the rest of the knocks. 

Yuri reapplied his lip shine, popped his lips, walked to the bathroom and back to the bed. He didn’t hear any of Victor’s muted introduction: instructions and reminders to those gathered in the living room. He simply bobbed his head, stretched his toes, and waited.

Then Yuuri eased the buds from his ears, kissed the tip of his nose, and held up the blindfold. 

“It’s time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **OLD NOTE** :  
> PS: I debated for a long time making the gang bang itself its own work; I'm still semi-tempted. Do y'all have strong feelings either way? **EDIT** : OK! Everyone thinks it should stay here, so here it shall stay :D


	29. Lion Tiger Teddy Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drumroll, please! 
> 
> OK, here is CHAPTER ONE of the GREAT BIG GANG BANG (GBGB(tm) ;) ). These chapters are going to be a bit shorter, and hopefully go a bit quicker, so keep your eyes peeled :D 
> 
> We'll start our dear kitten off a little easy, then ruin him later, eh?
> 
> Thank you Sintina for the last minute edit!

Leo de la Iglesia was excited. He’d never been to a penthouse suite before, never got invited to a Victor Nikiforov party before (the fake one for JJ totally didn’t count), and never had sex with Yuri Plisetsky before. 

He wasn’t sure which he was most excited about.

_u SURE this is ok?_ he texted in the elevator. How long had he been in this elevator?

_omg leo LIVE UR DREAMS just tell me everything_  
_its victor!!!_  
_you cant shut up about him_  
_go enjoy. i expect a full ~debrief~ when ur back_

Leo sent back a flirty bitmoji and all the hearts in his recent list. _:* ilu_ His bae deserved, like, a trillion chocolates next time he saw them.

The final ding of the elevator sounded and Leo stepped out into a very short hallway that doubled as a foyer before the suite doors. He’d barely knocked before those doors swung open and a bare-footed, fluffy-robed Victor Nikiforov grinned down at him.

“Leo!” Victor greeted him like an old friend and Leo miraculously managed not to go full fan boy. 

“Hey,” he said, and tried to ignore Victor’s arm around his shoulders, guiding him inside. There was a wheeled garment rack covered in yet more robes and almost without looking Victor pulled one free and proffered it monogram up. _L I_.

_What?!_

“This one’s yours,” Victor smiled. “If you like, of course. How are you feeling?”

Leo laughed, wishing it sounded less nervous: “Well, I’ve never done this before.”

And Victor Nikiforov _winked_ at him: “Me neither.” 

Victor twirled away like a silver cyclone, on to wreck his next guest, while Chris arrived to take Leo’s phone. Without it, he felt far more naked than he would sans robe, but it was comforting too, knowing this would never get out of their circle of friends. Leo found a bench up against the wall with several cubbies beneath it, a few of which were already full of discarded shoes and clothes.

_Well, here goes nothing,_ and he stripped.

Leo knew the guest list - all the participants had to be OK with each other, and it wasn’t like Leo didn’t constantly keep tabs on _everyone_ \- but he was still surprised to see Seung Gil actually show up. The taciturn Korean handed off his phone to Chris, gave Leo a nod, and kicked off his shoes beside him. He undressed without a care, setting his things in one of the unused cubbies before pulling on his robe.

Unlike Leo, Seung Gil wasn’t half hard just at the idea of Victor Nikiforov’s sex party. Well, technically it was for Yuri, wasn’t it? But once a fanboy, always a fanboy.

They didn’t see Yuri for almost a half hour. More folks arrived and changed and explored until the full crew was sprawled on the couches and resting on floor pillows in their fluffy robes. Most were already flirting and giggling with excited, nervous grins. Waiting. 

They’d all had conversations with Victor before - and any number of email and text threads - so it was surprising when Otabek, not Victor, stood up to start the party. His introduction was minimal: safe words, quiet room, and a reminder that everyone was here to enjoy each other and celebrate Yuri, and that meant following his and Victor’s guidance.

“And now,” Victor said, standing up beside Otabek. “Our main event.”

One of the doors on the far edge of the space opened. Yuuri emerged first, leading a blindfolded Yuri behind him. Yuri’s robe had a hood with pointed ears, like a kitten, and Leo couldn’t help but lean forward, soaking up as much of that image as he could. 

Yuri was _gorgeous_.

— 

Yuri couldn’t see all of their guests, but as Yuuri led him from the room he certainly felt them. He sensed their eyes swarming over him, their held breaths, their accelerating pulses. Even a few hoots, whistles, and brief applause.

For him.

“Otabek, would you do the honors?” Victor asked, his voice off to Yuri’s right. Yuri tingled, wondering what Otabek thought of him. If Otabek thought he was beautiful. Victor lowered his voice into a delicious, sultry tenor: “Let’s see this lovely body we all get to enjoy tonight.” 

Yuri followed the gentle pressure on his hand, mindful of every step, until Yuuri’s guiding palm was replaced by a firmer, more calloused version. 

“Otchka,” Yuri whispered.

He felt Otabek’s hand at the small of his back, through the plush robe, and then Otabek’s chest was behind him, arms around him in a loose hug. His owner slid down Yuri’s hood, mindful of his hair, then tugged at the waist tie.

“Everyone is looking at you, my Yurike,” Otabek whispered as he freed the knot, holding the sides of the robe closed with one hand. “They can’t wait to see you.”

— 

Leo was hard as rock and they hadn’t even started. Yuri stood like a damsel in Otabek’s arms, head canted to the side, accentuating his neck. Otabek held the robe closed, then tortuously eased one side open. Leo bit his lip as the fabric fell off Yuri’s shoulder, exposing skin pale as eggshell.

It wasn’t that Leo liked boys or girls, really. He’d never been able to pinpoint exactly what got him going, but Yuri? 

_God, Yuri._

Leo stared at Yuri’s hip as Otabek dragged his hand over it, only the faintest coloration of a bruise visible beneath Otabek’s fingertips. Yuri’s groin was still concealed by the other side of the robe, and even though Leo had seen Yuri naked before, in the lockers, the tease made him salivate to see it again.

Otabek knew exactly what he was doing to them all, too; Leo was certain. Leo’s mouth went dry as Otabek’s palm roved up to Yuri’s shoulder and in one swift motion spun him around. The robe fanned out and fell to the ground, leaving in its wake the bare body and beautiful backside of Yuri Plisetsky. 

“God,” Leo whispered.

— 

Yuri braced himself on Otabek’s chest after the spin. 

“Show yourself off,” Otabek whispered, and Yuri walked backwards on his toes, crimping at the waist so his ass would push out toward their audience and his hands could stay at Otabek’s hips.

“Now,” Victor said, his voice circling Yuri. Yuri could hear the smile as he spoke, felt his occasional touch as he walked around him. “He’s been thoroughly cleaned out, washed head to toe, and he’s all ours for the evening.” 

Yuri trembled as another round of appreciative hoots went up, too many for him to pinpoint any specific voice. He had no idea who all was watching him, and he loved it.

Victor paused right beside him, hand curving around his ass, finger circling the dimpled skin between his cheeks: “First, a bit of prep…”

— 

They were allowed to touch themselves whenever they wanted, but Leo absolutely couldn’t be the first. He bit his lip as Victor took up a long-nosed turkey baster, filled it with lube, and slipped it into Yuri’s tiny pink asshole. Leo gulped, watching Victor squeeze the bulb as he withdrew it, and could only imagine the thick coating of lubricant Yuri was getting inside. 

“Now,” Victor charmed them all. “We’ll get our quickies out of the way first. Whenever you feel close, or just want a turn, come up and take him. Then we’ll do your individual scenes.”

Victor was usually theatrical, but he disrobed with a simple shrug of his shoulders and flick of his wrist. For some reason, that was even hotter. Of course Victor Nikiforov was experienced enough in the bedroom to strip with the utmost confidence, to make even a second-long shedding of cloth look erotic.

Leo gave in and grabbed his dick through his robe. _Victor Nikiforov_.

“I’ll start,” Victor said. He gave Yuri’s ass an appreciative grope, squeezing the toned muscle of his cheek as he lined up. “Otabek, start the clock? Can I get a countdown?”

Yuuri and Chris started: “Five…. Four…. Three…” 

Leo joined: “Two…” 

— 

Yuri was bent in half, holding onto Otabek’s waist for support, feeling Otabek’s broad palm on his back, when Victor thrust into him on “One.”

He couldn’t help his moan. 

“Victor,” Yuri managed. This was it. Whatever hesitance he’d had, whatever lingering apprehension, it was gone in an instant. His body sank onto Victor’s cock, onto that evergreen feeling of being filled, only made sweeter by their love.

Yuri’s hands tightened around Otabek as Victor began thrusting, fingers threading through his belt loops. It wasn’t that his knees were going to collapse or he’d lose his balance without Otabek to hold on to. It was that touching his Sir, his soon to be Master, was just as thrilling - and reassuring - as any cock inside him.

Yuri wished he could see what Victor looked like, towering behind him, holding Yuri’s hips.

“Fuck me,” Yuri begged. 

— 

Leo heard Yuri say ‘Fuck me’ and it was a miracle he didn’t lose his load then and there. He was suddenly _very glad_ he hadn’t been stroking himself, but he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not like this.

He closed his eyes, prepping to get up and follow Victor’s lead, but by the time he opened them someone else had cut to the front of the line.

— 

Yuri was just starting to get into Victor’s rhythm when Victor spoke again. 

“Ready for a turn?” 

The response must have been nonverbal, because Victor pulled out, helped guide Yuri’s hips lower, and then Yuri felt another cock prodding at his ass. It felt warm, no condom, but small. Though thinner and shorter than anything he’d had before, it was far from tentative - almost like that vibrator Yuuri had used on him once, moving so quickly it was more texture than thrust. Yuri clenched in excitement. Someone new inside him!

“Can you guess who it is, Yuri?” Victor teased. Yuri felt the brush of a cock - Victor’s? - on his cheek. 

“Open your mouth,” Otabek commanded, and Yuri did, turning his head to the side so he could pleasure his mentor. 

Victor must have wiped off most of the lube, because it tasted like clean skin as Yuri swallowed around him, trying to figure out who was inside his ass.

Yuri popped off Victor’s cock. “Someone from the Grand Prix?” It wasn’t that he recognized the cock, obviously, but the _energy_ of it… so vibrant and pure and excited. It reminded him of something. Someone.

“Mmhmm,” Victor teased. 

Yuri turned thoughtful. Who was so eager… but also inconsistent? The little cock was bouncing every which way inside him, constantly changing angles. Before Yuri could figure it out he felt that buzzing prick inside of him freeze. He heard a higher pitched gasp, endearing in its mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. That embarrassment was what finally cued Yuri. 

“Minami,” he licked his lips, and the skater orgasming inside of him squeaked in affirmation. 

— 

Leo stood behind Minami, watching the shivering, trembling thrusts until Minami came. 

It didn’t take long, which was probably for the best given that Minami couldn’t stop glancing at Yuuri every few seconds. 

“First of the night,” Victor congratulated, and Minami’s embarrassed blush vanished, replaced with pride. Otabek pulled a sharpie from his back pocket and drew a hash mark on Yuri’s ass. That was one.

Victor’s eyes turned to Leo as Minami pulled out. He gestured Leo to take Minami’s place, brandishing a bottle of lube. Leo shuffled out of his robe and grabbed his dick, holding it like a hotdog for Victor’s condiment. 

“May I?” Victor asked after drizzling a line down the length, and when Leo could barely nod Victor used his fist to smear it evenly over Leo’s skin. 

God, _God_ , Victor Nikiforov was touching his dick!

“Wow,” Victor smiled as it leapt in his hands, as Leo nearly lost it. “Beautiful. You’ll like the depth on this one, Yuri.”

Yuri grunted, wiggling his ass, and Leo couldn’t resist. Besides, if Victor touched him any longer he wouldn't even make it to Yuri.

Leo grabbed Yuri’s hip, helping them match heights, and then he was pushing against that dark peach wrinkle of skin, watching it expand around the shiny head of his cock. A picture of Leo’s grinning bae flashed through his head, and he couldn’t help his smile as he sank inside.

“Cut?” Yuri asked, still tonguing at Victor’s dick.

“Mhm,” Victor said.

Leo’s eyes rolled up into his skull as that plush warmth wrapped around him. Leo had been in enough locker rooms to know he had a longer than average dick, especially for his height, but he forgot just how long it was until, about halfway in, he felt the texture suddenly change. It took him a minute before he realized: he’d hit Minami’s cum. 

Did he like that? Leo had no idea, but he was so turned on already it just made him harder. He held Yuri’s hips and leaned over him, changing up the angle before thrusting the rest of his dick in all at once. 

The resulting yelp and tightened ass made Leo freeze, worried he’d hurt Yuri, but then Yuri arched his spine, and Leo swore it felt like Yuri’s ass was trying to suck him in even deeper.

“Oh god,” Leo groaned, and didn’t realize until it was out of his mouth that he’d ruined the surprise. Yuri glanced over his shoulder, like he might be able to see Leo if the blindfold weren’t there, and smirked.

“Leo,” Yuri breathed. Leo gave an apologetic _hnnnf_ , brushing Yuri’s cheek. 

“Yeah,” Leo said. Then: “Sorry.”

Yuri shook his head, the tails of the blindfold brushing over his bare back. “I like it. More?”

“I — I’m already so close,” Leo grunted, but he tried, pulling back and then sliding all the way in again.

“Good.”

— 

Yuri made it his mission to get Leo to come as quickly as possible. He started to wring his ass around Leo’s cock, even if the depth drove him to distraction every thrust. 

“Mm, Leo,” Yuri moaned, digging his fingertips into the denim of Otabek’s jeans, humping back onto Leo’s cock every thrust. Victor seemed to love it when Yuri was loud, and he wondered if Leo was the same. “ _Leo_.” 

— 

Yuri Plisetsky was begging for Leo, gulping down his dick with every swivel of his hips, basically _twerking_ — and Leo had absolutely no chance of surviving. His nails scraped into the crease of Yuri’s upper thigh as he pulled him close, bottoming out with a powerful smack as he came. Leo’s eyes screwed up and his chin tucked to his chest, silent in his pleasure.

“God,” he gasped after the initial burst, pumping those final aftershocks into Yuri. He stepped back in a daze while Otabek added another mark to Yuri’s ass. 

He didn’t notice who took his place, but he did notice Victor’s steadying hand on his shoulder, felt a warm, slightly damp towel pressed into his palm like he always got on those fancy international flights. Leo stumbled back to one of the couches, robe forgotten, legs spread. He leaned his head back, taking his time stroking the cum and lube and gunk off his softening dick. 

Softening, but not quite soft.

After all, they had a long night ahead of them. 

It had only been eight minutes.


	30. Femininity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. Y'ALL. FOLKS. LOOK. 
> 
> I was looking up something for ADKOC and then WHAT DO I FIND IN THE SEARCH but this [amazing cosplay shout out](https://www.instagram.com/p/BVOdTHkDfxU/)??? Y'all I don't deserve you <3 You are so good to me.
> 
> Special thanks to [verity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity) for the edit pass <3 I would edit more, but I am falling asleep on my face and figured better posted imperfect than not posted at all.

“How do you feel?”

Yuri clamped the muscles of his ass, stretching one foot and then the other while the cock at his back continued thrusting. He hadn’t figured this one out yet. It was almost as deep as Leo - not quite - and still hadn’t bottomed out inside him. He had yet to feel the hips of whoever was taking him, and even getting the head in initially had been something of an issue. 

He’d thought it was Chris, for the thickness, but then the click of the camera sounded off to his left and eliminated that option.

There was that continuous steady pumping, like Yuuri, carrying on and on when these were supposed to be quickies. But he’d just had Yuuri inside him (Yuuri whom he adored, Yuuri who had been so turned on helping Yuri get ready but hadn’t been allowed to use him until now). 

For a brief second he feared it was JJ, but that was the one person Yuri put on his Absolutely Not list.

“Yuri, hey,” Otabek said, catching Yuri’s cheek and brushing his thumb down Yuri’s nose. He repeated: “How do you feel?” Yuri realized he’d been drifting and startled back to attention.

“Mm,” Yuri nodded, smiling reassurance back up to Otabek, or where Otabek’s voice was coming from. “Good. I’m good. I — I don’t know who it is.”

Yuri had four hash marks on the cheek of his ass: Minami, Leo, Yuuri, Seung Gil (his ass was pink from how hard he’d slammed in, the condom doing nothing to dampen the forceful, hammering pressure), and now… 

— 

Emil was showing off. 

For the most part, he considered himself straight, but _someone_ (he glanced at the couch) had been so excited about the prospect of seeing him have sex with Yuri that he couldn’t say no. 

Plus, Yuri looked enough like a girl. If he squinted, it really _was_ just like having sex with a beautiful woman.

A _really_ beautiful woman, actually. 

But when his hand instinctively came under Yuri’s chest to grope at a dangling tit it found the firm pectorals of a professional male figure skater instead. He squeezed anyway, strummed Yuri’s nipple like the strings of a guitar.

OK, so not the MOST beautiful woman. Not like Sara. But really, no one was as beautiful as Sara. 

Emil’s eyes darted to the couch again, only to lose his rhythm entirely and almost fall over (how was that even possible???) at what he saw. 

— 

Sara was the only one of the group who’d opted to wear clothes beneath her robe: a lacy tank top and matching boy short style panties, both a pale ivory that glowed against her tanned skin. As it happened, her tanned skin also showed up remarkably well against the paler body beside her, which is why Emil could see precisely the moment Sara’s hand slipped between those snowy legs. 

— 

“Ey!” Yuri grunted as the cock inside of him jerked to the side again. He tightened up around it in protest.

A hand pet at his back, like apologizing, and Yuri settled down again, making a figure eight of his ass on that stiff intrusion. 

“I can take it,” Yuri grunted, “if you go all the way inside me.” He minded the warning tug Otabek gave the back of his neck. Yuri was for them to enjoy; he should accept whatever he was given.

“He’s been training for this, and he’s warmed up,” Otabek agreed. “If you want to go hard on him, he’s yours.”

The rumbled response could have been anyone, but Yuri couldn’t think about it because then that cock _thrust_ , suddenly no holds barred. Yuri’s jaw dropped open. He slipped from Otabek’s waist, hands bracing on the floor instead as that thick wonderful thing pushed to the hilt and a bushy crotch nestled against his bare one.

Definitely not Chris. 

“Oh fuck,” Yuri grunted. “Fuck. You’re huge, fuck.” 

Otabek’s hand fanned on Yuri’s back, reassuring. “You’ve had things like this before. He’s not too big.”

“He’s _proportional_ ,” Victor chuckled from the sidelines. “… and then some.”

Tall. Tall. He was tall. 

Yuri reached back, towards the hip of his partner, but whoever it was grabbed his hand, laced their fingers together, and squeezed. It was unexpected - surprisingly intimate for the situation - and Yuri was glad for the blindfold so no one could see the way his eyes fluttered. Yuri squeezed back, noting the tufts of hair on the backs of the knuckles, the wrist. 

“Italian?” he asked.

“No,” Otabek said, and Yuri heard a sniff of disgust come from the couch. A very _feminine_ sniff of disgust. 

Tall. Hairy. Slightly uncoordinated. Ah.

“Emil.”

— 

Emil was so busy staring at Sara’s sultry antics that he barely heard Yuri the first time. He could’ve lasted if it was just him fucking Yuri, but watching Sara do _that_? With _her_?

Every secret fantasy Emil had was coming true on that couch, and then Emil was coming too. 

“Yes!” he gasped, half to Yuri and half in orgasm.

Damn, though! He wasn’t supposed to be that quick! He’d lasted about ten times longer than Minami, but still. The girls were grinning at him, shaking with mostly silent giggles at the startled gape of his o-face, hands returned to their laps in innocence. 

“That’s cheating!” Emil jested as he withdrew. Otabek added another hash to Yuri’s ass and Emil pat it like a dog, like thanking it for the good work. 

“Ahhh, and I was doing so well,” Emil groaned dramatically as he flopped back next to Sara. Victor was occupied, having taken over for Emil, so it was Yuuri who brought over a warm towel. Or tried, until Sara intercepted.

— 

One of the many benefits of being a professional figure skater was the absolute plethora of beautiful, remarkably gay men. While perhaps not Sara’s _top_ reason for choosing the sport, it was certainly up there. Until today, though, she’d never seen more than spin-the-bottle kisses (and Victor’s constant PDA). _This_ was a whole new world.

As she brought the towel between Emil’s legs, cupping his shaft in it, she couldn’t help her whispered excitement: “You two were _so_ sexy together.”

“ _Patatina_ ,” Emil shook his head, “ _we_ were not the sexy pair.” And Sara felt an elbow nudge her other side, able to imagine the undoubtedly satisfied smirk that accompanied it. 

—

Yuri was just getting into Victor’s pace when it clicked: the feminine voice, appalled at the idea of an Italian skater being here, and the soft giggle when Emil finished.

“Sara!” Yuri called. He’d stood up somewhat, reaching back to hold Victor’s ass (admittedly not the steadiest thing in the world, given the pace at which Victor was thrusting). He gazed roughly in the direction he’d heard the giggle.

“Hm! Hi Yuri!” Sara called to the blindfolded boy. “How’d you guess?”

Yuri trembled. He was confident in his guess, but being right still startled him. Suddenly, a few of Victor’s sideways questions made sense. He’d never said it explicitly, but in hindsight he’d been probing Yuri’s comfort level with women. He’d asked about fingers and dildos and … and Yuri should have realized. 

“Are you going to fuck me?” Yuri growled, ignoring her question entirely. 

Another giggle: “Isn’t that what we’re all here for?” 

Oh. Right. And Yuri’s cock slapped audibly up against his stomach.

—

Sara handed the towel back to Emil and came over to Yuri and Victor. Sara liked Emil, of course, but if she was honest she found the more effeminate men more attractive. Mila blamed it on a lifetime of being repressed by - how did she phrase it? - _insecure hyper-masculinity_. Poor Mickey. But really, Sara just thought they were prettier.

“Can I touch him?” she asked Otabek. 

“Any way you want,” Otabek nodded. 

Emil gave her his best neglected pout, but Sara was too focused on Yuri to even notice. She traced the edge of Yuri’s blindfold, fingertip brushing across his forehead until it could roll down the edge of his ear. “You remind me of a Barbie I had,” she told Yuri. “Same skin and hair…” She traced down his neck, throat, the points of her manicured nails catching on his nipple as she touched his chest. Victor made a point to thrust then, to push Yuri’s body against the exotic texture. 

Sara laughed, delicate and delighted, “… and we all get to play with you.” Yuri blushed.

“When are _you_ going to play?” he asked, and there was an adorable undercurrent of shyness behind his bravado. Sara trailed her fingers down his hips, tickling the tops of his thighs. He jumped at the sensation, and Victor had to catch his weight, hold him still.

“As soon as the quickies are done,” Victor said from behind him. 

“Eh,” Yuri growled, squeezing his ass. “Hurry up, then, Vitya.” 

Sara watched Otabek’s fingers, moments before relaxed on Yuri’s back, drift to his neck and squeeze. “You’ll get used however Victor wants to use you,” Otabek murmured, head bent to whisper in Yuri’s ear, only barely loud enough for her to hear.

There was a hiss and then: “Yes, Sir.” 

Sara felt a damp patch bloom in the crotch of her panties. OK, maybe there was something even more attractive than feminine men. _Obedient_ feminine men.

“You do whatever Otabek says?” Sara asked. Yuri nodded without hesitation. 

“…would you do what _I_ say?” 

Yuri grunted at a particularly deep thrust from Victor, then canted his head towards Otabek, asking. 

“He’s here to please,” Otabek said. “He’ll do what you say.”

A thrill ran down Sara’s spine. For so much of her life, her brother had been trying to control her. She wondered what it would feel like, being able to control someone else. On the couch, Emil leaned forward with intrigue, gauging what she might do, and even Seung Gil, who’d been steadfastly NOT paying attention to her, watched with rapt attention.

“Open your mouth,” Sara said, and Yuri did. She touched his shimmery lower lip, tracing the line where his skin went from dry to wet. Victor had switched to shallower thrusts so Yuri wouldn’t rock as much, but she still felt the trembles. Sliding her finger forward, Sara touched Yuri’s pink, slick tongue. How many times had she seen him stick it out? And now he held his mouth open for her, giving her complete access. She was mystified seeing this champion, this young legend, so vulnerable before her.

“Suck,” she said, voice soft.

Yuri’s tongue curled around her finger and guided it into his mouth. He lapped it up to the second knuckle, then cradled the digit with his tongue and proceeded to hollow his cheeks with suction. She could feel the ridges on the roof of his mouth, but he kept his teeth carefully away. 

She wondered.

“Stop,” she said, and his mouth fell away. His head stayed angled towards her, focused on her, even as Victor continued behind him. Sara glanced at Seung Gil, pointed: “Don’t look” and then lifted up her top. 

“Suck,” she repeated.

— 

Yuri Plisetsky had never been with a woman before, but he knew his cock was hard between his legs from what was happening, and he kept seeing flashes of the woman from the club. When Sara said suck he felt the gentlest brush on his upper lip. He moved his mouth to meet it and then realized as his lips curved against soft, supple flesh exactly what he was sucking on. 

“Mmn!” Yuri gasped through his nose, pleasure suddenly overtaking him. Victor gave a hearty chuckle, feeling Yuri’s body clench in orgasm. No no no no! Yuri popped immediately off: “I’m sorry!” he choked. 

Otabek’s hand swept over Yuri’s back.

“We’ll punish you later,” Otabek promised, his voice filled with fondness. “Don’t stop.” 

Yuri heard Sara’s giggle and blushed as he wrapped his lips back around her breast, that tiny nub of flesh in the center getting all of his tongue’s attention. That nub became his bullseye, and he lashed it with his tongue, interspersing flicks and slashes and swivels. Around that point it was all so soft, softer even than the sweet spot where Yuuri’s ass met his thighs. Though there wasn’t much to put his mouth around, Yuri had nothing to compare to. 

For him, it was simply heavenly.

“He’s never been with a woman before,” Otabek explained to those still bemused at Yuri’s sudden orgasm. His hand was still at Yuri’s neck, still occasionally squeezing, rubbing.

“I think he likes it…” Victor said, finally showing some sign of exertion. He pulled out, but Otabek didn’t make another mark on his ass — had Victor still not come? 

“Open up, Yuri,” came Chris’ rumble, and Yuri widened his stance, pushed out his ass. Chris let his cock slide up the valley between Yuri’s cheeks for a few thrusts, smearing the sticky cum that Victor had pulled out with his cock. Then Yuri moaned into Sara’s breast as Chris finally got inside him. God, he’d forgotten how thick Chris was, thicker even than Emil, though not as long. 

Sara pulled her nipple away from his mouth, then replaced it with her other one. Her nails twirled the tails of his blindfold, scratched his scalp. Why did it feel so good? 

“More,” Sara said.

Yuri let his teeth come out, scraping across the pillowy flesh and then latching at her nipple. Her next exhale was rushed, half breathless, and Yuri puffed with pride. Sara took Yuri’s free hand, the one that wasn’t braced on her hip, and guided it between her legs. The silk panel between the lace was damp, bordering on straight up wet, and it immediately coated Yuri’s fingers. 

That, and he could _smell_ it. 

He’d always heard jokes about what women smelled like. Fish or oysters or wet slimy things. But Yuri had spent enough time around the scent of his own ass and the dank of a professional locker room that very few things actually put him off. 

And this wasn’t putting him off at all, really. It wasn’t wet. It wasn’t fishy. It was… 

He pulled back under the guise of needing a breath, but really he wanted to suck the scent in through his mouth and trap it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth and — and then he remembered his fingers, pressed against that soaked silk.

“I don’t know what to - I wasn’t trained to —“ Yuri started.

Only Chris was cursing, and coming, and the transition saved Yuri his embarrassment. When Chris pulled out a slosh of fluid dripped out after him, landing on Yuri’s calf, ankle, surely the blankets beneath him. Yuri felt the hashmark on his ass, the brief whiff of sharpie. 

“Anyone else? Quickies? Before we start our scenes?” Victor asked. 

Sara slipped away from Yuri with just a pet to his cheek. He wanted to reach for her, ask her to stay, but instead he just stayed bent and soaked up the feel of Otabek’s hand on his back. He focused on it as Minami bounced up again, vibrated inside him again, and came within a minute again.

Not that it bothered Yuri. It meant one more stripe added to his tally.

“Anyone else? No?” Victor grinned. “Alright then: Let’s begin.”


	31. Accessories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to save all of my uber-gushing for the end of the story, but I seriously adore all of you? Like, waking up to read how much you liked this chapter or that has been the most fulfilling thing. It's the best way to kick off a day and I feel so head over heels grateful for all you lovely folks. Thank you a million. 
> 
> And on the topic of gushiness, [verity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity) yet again saved this chapter from being a mangled mess. I am deeply indebted to them for the continued coherence of this story, especially in the face of my increasing @_@ about it. I have only met one other person in my life who, when I am beating my head against the wall, can ask exactly the right questions to inspire me, clarify things, and re-engage me in something I'd been at wit's end about. Thank you so, so much.

“This is a breeding bench,” Victor had said as he guided Yuri to his knees, helping him place his forelegs on the leather padding. “It’s going to help support your weight while everyone has a turn with you.” Victor stroked Yuri’s back, pressure guiding him to bend forward. “Go ahead and rest your chest down.” 

They hadn’t let him take the blindfold off. There was still one more person he had to uncover (Phichit? Guang Hong?), which meant his eyes were no help as he let the bench take his weight. His cock, already filling with blood again despite having just come with Sara, hung heavy between his legs, dangling freely beyond the bench’s edge. 

Victor made a point of cupping the curved stretch of skin between his asshole and his swinging balls, the root of his cock. 

Victor brought Yuri’s hands down to rest on matching leather pads. Yuri felt the sudden click of cuffs around his ankles, then his wrists, and finally a bar was attached to his thighs, just above the knee, holding him apart. There was enough room, if he tried, to lift his chest off the leather, and did so when Victor brought over a towel to slide beneath him. 

“Don’t want you sweating everywhere,” Victor teased. 

It was comfortable, and Yuri relaxed into the support. He would call it resting, except Otabek’s fingers were playing with his asshole, two of them slowly pumping his cum-sloshed innards until the next guest was ready. 

“Okay, Yuri,” Victor said, and Yuri could just imagine the smile on Victor’s face. “Time for your final suitor.”

Yuri nodded and licked his lips as Otabek’s fingers left him. He’d heard shuffling while Victor was preparing him, but nothing he could identify. Still. He pushed his ass out as much as he could on the bench, hoping the sight was inviting.

Whatever touched his asshole, it wasn’t like a lubed cock: chilled momentarily then warmed by body heat. This was cool, and it stayed cool as it went in. Yuri twirled his ass around it, the rigidity his second clue - it had to be a dildo. Why would anyone use a dildo? A shiver ran through him. 

“Sara?” Yuri asked. 

“I’m over here, Yuri,” Sara’s voice came from the couch. And besides, it couldn’t have been her - he already knew her. What other woman would — 

“M… Mila?” Yuri whispered.

She’d acted so smooth at the salon, asking what all this pampering was for. It couldn’t be — 

He felt a bare chest against his back, the squish of breasts on his shoulder blades, and then Mila’s teasing voice at his ear: “Are you ready to have some fun, Yuri?” 

— 

When Victor had first asked, Mila thought he was joking. 

“I’m serious,” Victor had said, hand touching the back of hers, the way it had years ago. Back then she’d been oblivious, but he’d been even moreso. “He cares about you. He trusts you.”

“You want me to have sex with him so he can get some _fashion accessory_?” she scoffed at the idea. 

Victor had laughed, threaded his fingers through his hair, and given her that satisfied, confident look that was so uniquely - and irritatingly - Victor. 

“Haven’t we both spent most of our lives chasing after metal rings?”

“ _Victor_.” Admonishing. But she looked at him, and he rolled his shoulders so casually, so invitingly.

“It isn’t about the accessory. It’s about what it means to him.” 

— 

It still didn’t feel real, even looking down between her legs and seeing the fake cock sticking out of her body and into Yuri’s. This could just as well be some other young, nubile blonde that had caught the attention of her skate family.

… Right?

He was quiet underneath her after he guessed, taking what she offered. Mila tried to figure out what she felt, quivering around the glass inside of her. 

“Yuri?” she asked, petting his side. “Are you okay?” 

“It’s like Otchka,” Yuri murmured, and his voice sounded so content. “Gentler.”

Mila glanced at Yuri’s keeper, resting on a pillow beside the bench, ever watchful of his charge.

“Should I go harder on you?” Mila grinned, squeezing his ass experimentally. “What does he like, Otabek?”

Otabek let out a puff of amusement. “Textures. Teasing. Having his hole stretched. Try just moving the head in and out a few times.”

The circle of Yuri’s ass couldn’t close quick enough when Mila withdrew. It nearly made it, but then Mila was popping it open again, dipping the dildo in and out of Yuri’s sphincter. 

The boy went wild. 

“Ah! Ahn!” he gasped. All of the muscles in his thighs and legs sprung into high definition against the feeling. Every time she plunged through that aperture Yuri bleated like a lamb.

“Now slam it deep. Hard,” Otabek said. 

“BABA!” Yuri screamed. 

Mila laughed, breathless with enthusiasm at what she’d evoked in him. She stayed locked inside him, letting him resonate with the force of it like she could see the ripples run up his spine and down his arms and sound off his lips like song. 

“Baba,” he moaned, and the cuffs rattled as he tried to reach for her. “…I want to see.”

“See?”

“The blindfold.”

Otabek looked to Victor, who shrugged agreeably: “He knows everyone now.” 

“OK, Yuri,” Otabek said. He kept his hands over Yuri’s eyes after the blindfold came off, shielding them momentarily. His thumb stroked down Yuri’s nose, then fell away. “Look and see.”

Mila realized she’d stopped thrusting and picked up the slow rhythm again, watching Yuri blink at the floor until his eyes were adjusted. Then he scanned the room, saw the various clusters of robed and unrobed figures, snuggling and kissing or sitting casually and watching. Minami waved and Chris blew a kiss and Sara sat in Emil’s lap, flashing him a secret smile. 

Yuri let out a breathless, blushing laugh, and then he finally looked back at Mila. 

— 

Mila froze. 

It was his eyes. No matter how Yuri had grown and changed, those eyes stayed the same. Soft yet determined, young yet powerful. A million memories flashed in her mind. It was the same eyes she’d watched go from novice to world champion, and here he was now, beneath her, body bared for her. With a blink she realized she’d been staring. 

They both had.

And Yuri blushed too, bowed his head and cleared his throat and murmured “Baba” like a plea beneath his breath. 

— 

“Do you really want this, Yuri?” Mila asked, chest tight for some reason. 

Yuri arched, eyes finding hers again, serious in a way she’d only ever seen him on the ice: “More than any medal.” He shook his head. “More than _anything_.” 

Mila was different after that. It felt less mechanical, more intimate, and after a while Mila’s breathing grew heavier, exertion finally showing. Yuri savored the sex, luxurious compared to the previous, fast-paced attacks on his ass. It wasn’t that Mila was any less powerful - if anything, the rigidity of the dildo combined with the power of her olympic thighs and ass blew most men out of the water - just that she was more patient. It built over time, minutes shifting around them like foam on the surf, until Yuri was crazy from it. 

“Do you want to try something new?” Mila asked him, and Yuri looked back at her, even more beautiful now for the glimmer on her forehead and the redness in her cheeks. 

“Anything,” he groaned. He was achingly hard, and Otabek kept fondling him, teasing the tip of his cock without ever giving him the strokes he’d need to come.

“Otabek - do you have the - ” Mila started, pulling out of Yuri. 

“I have them,” Victor chirped. “Which do you want?” 

“Warm.”

She stood up and for the first time Yuri got to see the glass that had been impaling him. He’d always known Mila was attractive, even if not necessarily attractive to him. But something about her casual stance, glass cock sticking out from a thick harness around her waist and thighs, ass bare when she turned her back on him, made his hips thrust involuntarily.

“Enjoying yourself?” Otabek asked. Yuri looked to his keeper, locking eyes for the first time since he’d fallen asleep under Otabek’s care.

“Kiss me?” Yuri begged. Otabek got that fond, possessive almost-smile as he bent and kissed his boy. His fingers dipped into Yuri again, swirling, and then he squirted another dollop of lube onto him.

“Oooh, perfect,” Mila said, and Yuri looked back to see her clasping a new glass toy, this one more uniquely ridged. Mila’s hands tensed and released, testing the length. The harness was empty, prior toy removed, but she held this new one to her crotch and - Yuri’s eyes widened - pressed it through the elastic ring and into her body. 

Yuri swallowed as it disappeared, watching the muscles of her abdomen flutter. The elastic notched into the midpoint depression and Mila strode over, the toy wagging ever so slightly with her motions.

Otabek had a palmful of lube which he smoothed onto the glass cock, and then Mila knelt behind once more. Yuri didn’t know what to expect, but heated glass wasn’t it. 

It was so warm, deliciously so, and it spread him open like melting butter. Yuri’s head sagged down, inhaling and exhaling, cock bouncing beneath him once more. 

“Good for relaxing, isn’t it?” Mila asked, because Yuri’s body finally gave up and sank onto the towel-covered leather.

“Mmm… “

It _did_ feel good. Especially with a slower pace. Yuri could focus on the glass sliding against his asshole: warming it up, loosening it, coaxing it to relax. Yuri settled on the bench, giving himself over completely. 

“Does it feel good for you?” Yuri asked. Because as much as he loved what was happening to him, loved that he was serving his keeper, he wanted it to be good for his partners, too. Wanted to make them feel as good as he did. And Mila was keeping her tempo so slow.

Mila bent over him again, smile making her voice so sweet: “So good. But I’ll never make it to the twenty minute mark if I let myself get carried away.” Yuri’s eyes went wide.

“Twenty minutes?”

“We’re over halfway there.”

Yuri grunted, rolling his hips back onto the next thrust. He melted under her, and if he started to drift, Otabek was enjoying it too much to rouse him. 

— 

Mila hadn’t stopped thinking about Victor’s offer. She knew from the moment he casually shrugged that she was done for, but she lasted another week before skating up to Victor again during break. She brushed the ice off her skate, shaking her head in disbelief at what she was about to do. Dammit, Victor Nikiforov.

“I’d rather have sex with you,” she said, and then her nostrils flared, because she hadn’t exactly intended to say that out loud. Was it too early to abort? While she flustered, Victor’s eyes softened.

“Still? After all these years?” 

She blew a breath through her nose. “I’m old enough now. You can’t use that excuse.” 

Victor considered, head canted to the side. “Alright.” 

“What?!”

“I have to ask Yuuri,” Victor said. “But if you come to the party, take a turn with Yuri, I’ll have you after.”

Mila blinked, stunned. 

“But it has to be a good turn with Yuri. We have five hours to test him.” Victor eyed her, contemplating, and then he lit up with that devious, plotting smile: “Think you can last twenty minutes?”

— 

The minutes slipped by with surprising ease while she covered Yuri. 

“Give him a hard one; he’s slipping away again,” Otabek would tell her, and she’d buck into Yuri’s pale body, make him startle, grunt, look back at her with fire in those emerald eyes.

And she’d grin, trace the hash marks on his ass with her fingernails.

“Seven already,” Mila said. 

“He’ll have at least twice that before the night’s over,” Otabek said. 

Yuri’s ass was already showing signs of its constant use. His entire asshole was pumped full of blood, red with friction, thick and full like kissable lips. It was starting to tingle, but Yuri didn’t let that stop him.

“That’s twenty,” Otabek said, and Yuri swore it had only been two or three. 

Mila groaned, slowly pulled herself free from Yuri’s body, and Otabek added a dot near the hashes. Then, in reflection, another two for each of Victor’s time inside him. 

“You didn’t come,” Yuri growled. 

“You could, Mila,” Victor said. “It might feel even better.” 

And Yuri didn’t understand, but Mila looked back at him, licked her lips, and then pushed back into Yuri’s body. 

It was like she was possessed. 

— 

“Hold this for me,” Mila commanded. “Tighten up.” 

Yuri furrowed his brow in confusion but did as she said, clamping around the dildo. She unhooked the harness from her waist and instead of fucking him, rode the dildo trapped in his ass. 

“ _Blyad_ , Mila!” Yuri yelped as she slammed herself onto it, humping the length. But she seemed most interested in grinding onto it, mushing the soft center of her body against the base. Yuri suddenly felt just how drenched the harness material was.

She was gripping onto his hips, leaning over him, crushing him against the bench as she sank her entire body weight onto the dildo. 

Her body quivered, humped, quivered again, and she made these _noises_ that shouldn’t have been erotic but made Yuri look at Otabek in desperation because his cock was about to pop again.

Otabek gave him a stern look: _hold it_ , and drew the next hash on his ass. Yuri grit his teeth, clenching onto that dildo for all he was worth as Mila rode out her orgasm. 

“Ok Victor,” Mila panted, lifting herself bonelessly off of the glass. She stumbled to the chair, spread her legs, and pointed to the Russian star. 

“Take me.”

— 

Yuuri tucked a cock ring around his husband’s mostly-hard flesh, then slid a condom over the fast-inflating tool. He gave Victor a nudge towards the chair, and Victor wasted no time climbing onto it, lifting Mila’s leg, and bucking into her. Even still trembling from Yuri, Mila cried out in bliss.

Yuuri sauntered over to Yuri, who was staring slack-jawed, glass dildo still in his ass, at the jackrabbit bucking of Victor’s hips.

“Are you sore yet, love?” Yuuri asked, stroking Yuri’s hair. Yuri looked back at him, snorted, and wiggled. It made the dildo jiggle adorably, at least until Otabek pulled it free and set it aside. Yuuri stood beside the Kazakh, offering his erection, and Otabek laid a quick kiss on Yuuri’s hip before greasing him up. 

“Let me in, Yuri,” Yuuri whispered as he knelt between Yuri’s legs. Yuri was still clenching, body still focused on an out-dated task. Yuuri had to kneed Yuri’s ass, coaxing the muscles to relax while Yuri was distracted with the performance in front of him.

“Sorry - is it OK?” Yuri finally said, body loosening. 

“It’s alright; it’s a very compelling show,” Yuuri soothed, calmly sexing the little kitten at half speed. 

“You’ve made it an hour,” Otabek said, offering a thick straw to Yuri’s lips. 

“An hour,” Yuri repeated, looking a bit pale for a moment. “Oh, fuck, Otchka.”

“You can do this, Yuri,” Yuuri assured. Yuri groaned, sucking on the straw, pulling in large mouthfuls of water he hadn’t known he needed while he watched Otabek do the same from a water bottle.

Mila was getting loud. 

Everyone was looking at Victor and Mila, save for Minami who was staring at Yuuri in fascination, watching Yuuri’s dick disappear and reappear like a kid at a magic show. Yuuri snorted at him, gave him a wink, but Minami didn’t even notice, wasn’t looking anywhere remotely close to Yuuri’s face. 

Fanboys.

“I’m not going to be able to walk for a week,” Yuri groan-laughed, rocking back onto Yuuri. 

“Not if we do our job,” Yuuri grinned. “Then we’re going to pamper you until you’re sick of us.” 

“Never,” Yuri smirked.

“Victor!” Mila gasped, drawing their attention. Victor was panting against her neck, driving his cock into the plump, dripping mess of her and out again. Yuuri could see little flecks of wetness sparkle in the light as they splattered out of her like some perverted Jackson Pollock. Whoever’s robe was under them was going to be soaked. 

“Look at him,” Yuri shook his head in awe. 

Yuuri watched the tight clench of Victor’s ass with every thrust, felt a bright heat bloom in his chest at the idea that that ass was _his_ , that that man was _his_. 

“I am.”


	32. Crazy Kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little thing today ~ Leo is a sweet pure boy who loves what he loves.

“Can _I_ do it?” Minami asked as he pulled his dripping dick out of Yuri. Otabek gave him a studious look, to which Minami responded with a snaggletoothed grin. 

“Keep it neat,” Otabek said, offering the marker. 

“Three for me!” Minami said, putting his hash mark alongside the rest. His chest puffed out as he turned to look at Yuuri, who’d finished his second round just before Minami took over - less than a minute ago. 

“Make sure you pace yourself,” Yuuri smiled to his protege. “You want to make it to the end, right?” 

“I’ll make it,” Minami declared. “Just wait!” 

Yuuri laughed, breathless still from his orgasm. “I believe you.”

Victor had just finished handing off a little cup of juice to Mila, who looked beautifully wrecked on the chair. Victor peeled the condom off his still-hard cock but left the ring on, much to Yuuri’s amusement. The pair leaned on each other, and once situated gave the thumbs up to Otabek to continue. 

“Who’s next?” Otabek asked. “Leo?”

Leo stood from the couch where he’d been whispering with Seung Gil, stretching and stroking himself idly. He pat down the pockets of his robe, pulling out a tiny iPod shuffle and two sets of ear buds joined by an audio splitter. Yuri watched him, suddenly intrigued. 

“I hope you like this,” Leo said to Yuri as he came up beside the bench. “Otabek helped with it.” 

Yuri watched, noticed that Leo’s fingers shook as he tried to untangle the wires. 

“Leo,” Yuri said. He waited until Leo looked up to continue. Yuri gave him a smirk of encouragement. “I like that you’re here, with me. No matter what you do.” 

“Heh,” Leo gave him a lopsided, grateful smile and took a steadying breath. “I thought we were supposed to be taking care of _you_ , huh?” 

Yuri shrugged. “My job’s to please you, isn’t it?” 

He wasn’t looking at Otabek, couldn’t see the pride that sentiment evoked in Otabek’s eyes, but felt the heat of his keeper’s palm on the small of his back. There was another moment of shuffling, and finally Leo managed to get the wires sorted. He looked at the device, like queuing up a track, and slipped one of the buds into his ears before his face fell. 

“Ah, damn,” Leo frowned, looking down between his legs. 

Yuri followed his gaze, saw his cock softened by his struggle with the wires. 

“Come here,” Yuri said. He licked his lips, then held his mouth open in offering. Leo looked to Otabek, who nodded permission and swiped Leo’s cock with a warm washcloth. 

“Thanks,” Leo said as he held out the tip. He cursed beneath his breath as Yuri sucked that long thin thing into his mouth.

Yuri wanted to taste a cut cock anyway. 

He played eagerly over the head, feeling out the bare, exposed glans with his tongue. The slit was already salted, moreso as Yuri decided to tease and flick his tongue into it. Leo’s hands tangled in his hair, ruining the already messy braids. 

Victor said something Yuri didn’t hear, and the next moment one of his hands was free, uncuffed so he could tap out. Instead he brought it to Leo’s hip, pulling him closer, guiding the cock farther into him. He looked up at Leo, locked eyes. 

“It’ll be easier if you thrust into his throat,” Otabek said to Leo. “He can’t move his neck very well when he’s on the bench.”

“You sure?” 

“He can handle it. He’ll tap your hip if he’s running out of breath,” Otabek said. 

Leo wasn’t sure about that. His bae always had issues taking his cock, choked on it when Leo went too deep, but he pushed his hips experimentally forward and Yuri just closed his eyes, relaxed, and took it. 

“Oh, god, wow,” Leo whispered. He made it all the way in, until Yuri’s nose was resting on the trimmed hairs of his crotch. “Wow, Yuri.” 

And everyone in the room could see the way Yuri glowed with that praise. He swallowed around Leo, vacuuming up his cock, and Leo shuddered at how good it felt. 

Too good. 

He reluctantly pulled out, cock arching proudly upwards between his legs. Replacing Otabek’s fingers at the mouth of Yuri’s ass, Leo leaned forward. Yuri felt the hard nub of earbuds as Leo nudged them into his ear. The other set Leo put on himself. 

Yuri almost laughed when the music started. 

“ _Ke$ha_?” Yuri snorted, but Leo clenched Yuri’s ass in time and started to sink in with the crescendo. 

It took a measure or two before Yuri realized what was happening. The down beat was always a strong thrust, then three quicker, shallow bucks of Leo’s hips. As the vocals amped up, Leo gave a swivel of his hips, stirring the cum around inside of Yuri as the lyrics rose and fell.

“Jesus fuck did you choreogra—“ Yuri started, but Otabek’s hand came over his mouth, silencing him. Yuri groaned, but the beat was getting to him. Even Leo’s hands were timed to the music, nails raking along with the synth chords, groping down his thighs as he prepped for the bass drop. 

Yuri’s eyes closed, sinking into the sound and sensation as it blended from one song to the next. 

OK, it was actually _really cool_. 

He danced back to meet Leo, finally synching up. His hips rose for Leo’s, his body opened for Leo’s, and he swore it even felt like his heart was beating in time. When they lined up - when both of them pushed towards one another simultaneously - it was explosive, overwhelming, _perfect_.

And Yuri would never be able to listen to Ke$ha again without getting a massive boner. 

Fuck, why hadn’t he ever fucked like this before? 

Otabek fucking _DJ’ed_ in his spare time and they’d never had sex to music before? 

Fuck, it was _so good_. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Yuri moaned into Otabek’s palm, biting at the little bit of meat he could capture between his teeth. “Hnngh!” 

He looked over his shoulder, saw Leo’s heavy-lidded expression of bliss. Leo was lost to the music, to the feel of Yuri’s body, to the harmony they were sharing. Yuri reached back, grabbed one of Leo’s hands and squeezed the bass drum for the next two measures. 

_Get a little bit raw, come a little undone, get a little bit reckless, I can’t get enough_

It was building up again. Yuri looked to Otabek, eyes begging, but again Otabek withheld his release, head shaking side to side, though he finally dropped his hand. Leo reached for Yuri, brushed his hand over Yuri’s face, closing his eyes.

_Baby when we’re touching in the dark, can you feel it?_

Yuri grinned, arching his head back, showing off his neck and slick parted lips. 

_I can hear the pounding of my heart, can you feel it?_

Leo’s hands roamed his chest, filling with Yuri’s pecs, squeezing, scraping over his nipples. Yuri had to open his eyes as the song transitioned again, had to look back at Leo in this brand new light. Leo’s smile turned into a smirk as he noticed Yuri’s gaze, brushing his fingertips on Yuri’s lips. 

Yuri licked the feel of Leo’s fingertips away.

_Crazy motherfuckers_ , Leo mouthed the lyrics to him, gesturing with an arc of his head to all the assembled skaters and their marathon of collective sex. 

Yuri snorted silently, bobbing in agreement, always to the beat. 

_That’s just who we are_ , Yuri mouthed back, shrugging, loving, arching to soak up as much of Leo’s sweet attention as he could.

But they were approaching the finale - Yuri could feel it. Leo smoothed his fingers up to Yuri’s shoulders to grab him for leverage. Leo’s thrusts were more melodic now, aching along with the vocals, holding back for that final blissful moment. 

“Yes, yes,” Yuri begged. The tension pulled them both together, wound them into an elastic knot desperate to snap. So close, _so close_. 

“Please!” 

_We’re the ones that play hard, we live hard, we love hard, we light up the dark_

And at that final, beautiful note Leo came, crumpled over Yuri, shuddering in syncopation. 

Yuri quivered, the temptation to follow overwhelming, but he stood on the edge of that precipice and breathed until it no longer felt like he was seconds from stumbling over it.

As Leo slipped out and sat on his knees, panting, the distance pulled the earbuds from Yuri’s ears. Leo yanked them from his own, the room amazingly quiet after the pounding mix. He took several deep breaths, then saw Otabek holding out the marker. 

“You earned that one,” Otabek said, and Leo gave another winded laugh as he took the marker and swiped his hash mark onto Yuri’s ass. 

“ _Blyad_ , Leo,” Yuri agreed. 

Leo flopped onto his back, one hand strewn over his chest. “Otabek helped… He… put them all together.” 

“The way you told me,” Otabek said. 

“Still.” 

Leo swallowed, catching his breath, and pushed himself up again. He came around in front of of Yuri, took Yuri’s cheeks in his hands, and kissed him hard. Yuri’s entire body buzzed electric with his need to come, the kiss a delectable torture on top of what he’d just endured. But it didn’t matter: he moaned into the connection and swallowed at Leo’s tongue, curling his own around it, against it. 

“Thanks, Yuri,” Leo said when he finally pulled back, licking at his lips. His journey to the couch was a dazed, teetering, but victorious one. Emil gave him a congratulatory smack on the back, while Minami and Seung Gil offered nods of approval.

“Nicely done.” Leo looked up to see Victor’s smiling face, holding out a little cup of chilled juice. “I never would have thought to use music that way.” 

_Victor Nikiforov!_ Leo’s mind blanked. When he came back there was a cup of juice in his hand and Victor was laying playful kisses on Yuuri’s neck across the way. 

“That was amazing!” Minami chortle-whispered at his side, just a little too loud.

“Minami,” Otabek’s attention snapped to him. “Think you can follow that?” 

Minami squeaked like a tea kettle. “Me?!” 

“I can,” Seung Gil said, and he stood and dropped the robe from his shoulders.


	33. Good Vibrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP IT FINALLY HAPPENED. 
> 
> It took 137k words, which admittedly is pretty good, but I finally had like a big crisis / breakdown about this fic. There was a lot of drama. Much theatrics. Most of it was just to the audience of my dogs (who are good, good boys). But still.
> 
> [More here](https://nomanono.tumblr.com/post/163882860763/this-is-fine) but TL;DR if anyone tells you writing isn't pain and suffering, they're lying.
> 
> PS: While all that was going down, I wrote [domestic fluff about Yuuri learning to use his tentacles](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11662353) and I explored the [terrifying and wonderful world of abo](http://archiveofourown.org/series/785883).

By the end of Seung Gil’s scene Yuri’s body looked very different. 

His shoulders, thighs, and ass were striped with bright red marks from a bamboo cane. His neck was a collage of C-shaped bites, mirrored on the plump curves of his ass, and his balls were a tight purply color from being tied up. His lips were bruised from Seung Gil’s aggressive kisses, and he’d slapped Yuri twice across the cheek for crying out when he was struck. Both were a rosy pink.

He’d pulled off his condom at the end and came in a flash of wet warmth over Yuri’s thighs, which dripped into the creases at the back of his knees. 

Seung Gil silently scrubbed down his hands with a warm washcloth and pulled his robe back on while Yuri panted, drank the water Otabek offered him in between sipping his own. Several of the guests had excused themselves from the scene, but the moment it ended Minami (who’d actually just been staring through the window in fascination) was the first one back inside. When Otabek had checked Yuri’s ass with two thick fingers, he gave his approval and Minami came up behind him once more.

“ _How_ ,” Yuri muttered. How many times had Minami come already?

But Minami just slid inside and happily buzzed his little hips. 

“It’s so slimy!”

Yuri snorted, tried to tighten around Minami’s dick. He pulsed his body, playing with the intrusion, and it must have worked because Minami still came in under a minute. Yuri arched his ass out for the hash mark.

He wanted to know how much time he had left, but Otabek had turned the clock away. 

Yuri hadn’t been able to space out with Seung Gil. The Korean had placed a weight in his mouth and made him hold it in lieu of a safe word, and he’d nearly dropped it the one time his mind started to wander. 

He had no idea how long Seung Gil had beaten him. It felt like hours. But then, it could have been minutes, too.

Sara was next, coming in from the pool still dripping and Yuri couldn’t help the way his eyes lingered as she toweled herself off. She’d remained topless, but now she slid out of her wet lacy underwear as well. The robe hid her nudity from the rest of the audience, and Yuri could see more than one disappointed expression at that fact. 

But he focused on Sara instead, lifting his head towards her touch when she came over and pet his cheek. 

“Since you’ve never done this before, maybe this will help,” Sara said, kneeling beside him. Victor was there next to her, holding a roll of medical tape and a box of toys. 

Yuri tried craning his head but couldn’t see what they were doing between his legs. He felt something hard against his cock, right on the underside of his head, and then tape fastening it in place. Victor stroked him until he hardened and then tested the tape, moving on when he was confident. The next one went underneath his balls, tucked up against his taint, and the last Victor handed to Sara, long and lubricated.

“He’ll tell me if it’s too much?” she asked Otabek as she brought it behind him. 

“He knows his safe words,” Otabek nodded.

Sara eased it inside of him, no longer or thicker than any of his normal toys. His ass tightened around an impossibly narrow, flexible neck, and then he felt a piece of tape on his thigh, holding something down. 

“OK, Yuri,” Sara smiled. She sat on the stool Otabek had placed in front of Yuri, his full attention locked on her. Underneath the chlorine he could still smell her, and it made his cock pulse up towards his belly. She had three little plastic boxes on the bench beside her, each with a knob.

She spread her legs, scooting forward, and Yuri felt a jolt of anticipation. He stared at the shape of her, watching it bloom as her legs opened. 

Yuri licked his lips. 

“I still don’t know how —“ 

Sara just tapped the tip of his nose, scooting closer one more time until his face was surrounded by her thighs. He couldn’t resist the temptation to lean down and nuzzle the smooth mound of flesh. 

“Not yet, Yuri!” Sara said, tugging his hair back up. “You said you’d obey me.”

Yuri’s tongue darted out to wet his lips again, tilting his head to gaze up at her, cheek on her inner thigh. 

“I’m going to tell you when to touch, and where,” Sara said. “With these.” 

She tapped the plastic knobs beside her, and must have turned one, because the hard plastic under Yuri’s balls started to buzz and vibrate. He jolted in surprise. 

“That means lips,” Sara said. Her hand came between Yuri’s face and her sex, gently sliding one lip to the side, showing him in the delicate interior pair. “ _Just_ lips.”

Yuri nodded. 

“Try.”

Yuri’s hips shifted in response to the pleasure, almost wagging as he lowered his mouth onto her. He blushed, not having much of any idea what he was doing, but he licked the skin she held open for him, tongue curling over that tiny ridge and the thicker set, around Sara’s fingertips. She tasted like summertime: lotion and sea spray and sex. When her fingertips disappeared, he nosed her lips apart and continued, dragging his teeth carefully over the flesh, tongue searching out the interior. 

“Lips only, Yuri,” Sara warned when his tongue veered too deep. 

Yuri hummed his response into her skin, but he was getting nervous. He didn’t like not knowing what he was doing. He wanted to make her feel good. He _really_ wanted to make her feel good, actually, and he worried that she wasn’t making any noise. 

He’d never thought Yuuri and Victor were particularly vocal, but he found himself missing their feedback. 

He didn’t have much time to think about it. The tip of his cock started to buzz, and he lifted his mouth up, finding that hidden jewel at the peak of her lips. He hesitated a moment, wanting to be sure, and then he felt her hand on the back of his head, guiding him forward. 

“You’re right, Yuri. Go on.” 

He blushed, letting his tongue rest underneath it as he sucked hood and nub into his mouth all at once, pulling on the hardened thing as his tongue lapped. It couldn’t be that much different than a cock, could it? He moved back to her lips when the vibration stopped, but wasn’t sure what to do. He’d been licking, suckling, grazing his teeth. What else? 

She gave him a reprieve, turning on the vibrator in his ass. 

He moved down towards her ass, but she grabbed his hair again. 

“Inside me,” she instructed. Yuri felt foolish for not realizing that. It only exacerbated his failing confidence. 

He fumbled, sliding his tongue between her lips and feeling the ring of muscle between them. Unlike an ass it wasn’t a single circle of tightness, but a tunnel lined in constricting, gripping strength. He dipped his tongue into it, explored it. For some reason he expected the musty tang of an ass and instead got a more concentrated dose of that beachy ambrosia. 

His nose brushed her mound, apologizing for his inexperience, appreciating her flavor. He wanted to ask if it was any good, to beg her to tell him, but she kept his mouth occupied with the buzzing toys. She commanded him to her clit again, then inside, sometimes leaving them all on and letting him stumble over her sex, his face covered in her wetness. 

That - that had to be good, didn’t it?

It was Emil who saved him. 

Emil sat next to him, took his shaking hand.

“She’s really enjoying this,” he whispered into Yuri’s ear, soft enough that no one else could hear. “Do you want to know what she really likes?” 

Yuri nodded, nose bumping Sara’s clit. 

Emil scrubbed his hand back and forth over Yuri’s shoulders, letting his fingernails glide over the skin. He told Yuri the patterns that always drove Sara crazy, the sweet spots and level of pressure. He encouraged Yuri not to be so delicate. 

“You’d be amazed what a woman can handle,” he said, his voice reverent enough that Yuri had to believe him. 

So he pushed forward until he was fighting with the bench, nose and chin diving into her, _eating_ her like he was supposed to. 

And within a minute her thighs were squeezing around him, shaking, holding him in place as he hummed with his lips and tornadoed his tongue around her clit. 

He thought he would be done. He felt the hash mark on his ass, but Sara didn’t get up from the bench. If anything, she turned the knob for the ball vibe up, and, after taking a breath, Yuri complied and cannon-balled back into her. 

Sara had been silent even as she came, only the force of her breath indicating any sort of pleasure, but Yuri was starting to read the tension in her thighs and feel how it corresponded to his actions. It turned him on, knowing he was pleasing her, and he found his hips rocking against thin air, trying to get friction against those vibrators that were frustratingly inescapable.

It reminded him of the chastity belt, only instead of the tireless void it was an unending zing of pleasure.

Her hips were starting to lift up towards Yuri’s face, grinding against him, hands tangled in his hair. Otabek must have released one of his hands, because he brought it up to grab Sara’s thigh and pull her closer. 

“Look how hard you are, Emil,” Sara teased. 

“Look how beautiful _you_ are,” he laughed. 

“You should take Yuri,” Sara said, and it didn’t sound like a suggestion.

“I think he’s already taken.” 

“I can handle it,” Yuri said, coming up for air. “Push — you can push the vibrator deeper.”

Emil considered it for a few seconds too long.

“ _Emil_ ,” Sara gasped as she shuddered again. “Go.” 

And that time it certainly wasn’t a suggestion. 

Yuri angled his ass up as Emil rose. Otabek drizzled lube onto Yuri’s ass for Emil, and Emil pushed in alongside the vibrator cord. 

“I can feel it inside you,” Emil said. He’d connected with the vibrator almost immediately, which meant every inch of Emil pushed it an inch farther. 

And Emil was…. Considerable. 

“Yuri. Don’t stop,” Sara said, tugging his hair, upping the vibration beneath his balls. He hadn’t realized he’d paused, too caught up in what was happening behind him. 

His mouth resumed its motions, mentally repeating Emil’s guidance, bringing Sara to yet another peak. Or he thought so, if the way her thighs tried to pop his skull was any indication. 

He had her juices in his mouth, up his nose, all over his cheeks and chin and dripping down his neck. He was wallowing in the scent of her, drowning in it.

When Emil started thrusting, the vibrator felt like it was being shoved into his throat. They had to pause until Emil figured out how to get his dick above the vibrator and fuck into Yuri alongside it instead of moving it deeper each time. 

“It’s alright if you hurt him,” Otabek said. “A little bit of pain is good for him, and he’s already warmed up.”

It was true. Yuri was still high off the endorphins from Seung Gil’s beating, and Sara seemed to enjoy the way his cries vibrated against her clit. They developed a rhythm: Emil thrusting into Yuri, which shoved his face harder against Sara and hurt him enough to make him gasp, cry, against her flesh. 

He lost himself to that rhythm. The hashmarks on his ass continued, but Sara never pulled away. She held his hair, kept him against her, his entire world reduced to the space between her thighs. He never imagined his tongue could get tired, or that he could be so close to orgasm for so long. Otabek hadn’t removed the binding around his balls, and the vibrators were all on full, radiating motion through his body.

Yuri managed to take a deep breath as he felt their joint crescendo, but his lungs were still burning when Sara and Emil’s simultaneous shudders finally came to an end.

Only Yuri still shook, unable to release, and Otabek’s look made it clear he wasn’t getting an orgasm any time soon.

Otabek added two more hash marks on his stinging ass. Victor peeled the tape off Yuri’s skin and eased the vibrator out of him, drenched in Emil’s cum and everyone else’s. 

“Drink,” Otabek said, taking a large gulp from the water bottle before offering the straw to Yuri. 

“How much longer,” Yuri murmured after he’d drank most of the bottle. 

But Otabek just ran his fingers through his boy’s hair, looked up at Chris, and motioned him over.


	34. Look And Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all thank you so much for your wonderful sweets notes <3 I had much more fun with this chapter. ITS REALLY NICE TO WRITE SOMETHING FUN. 
> 
> I wrote nothing in the in between (gasp!). OK, that's not true, but it's ~the next series~ and I want to get a few more chapters under my belt before I commit whole hog. 
> 
> ALSO a ton of people asked for Seung Gil's chapter (oooh, you naughty things) so that is officially in my ADKOC backlog, along with Phayte's Otabek domming Victor 1111th comment prize.

Yuuri stood at the edge of the quilted space, on the fringes of the scene, thinking about his husband.

He watched Otabek unchain Yuri, slide a plug into his open hole, and help him to his feet. Otabek walked beside him, parading him as much as loosening him up after so long on the bench. Chris instructed Yuri through a series of stretches, a few aesthetic ballet poses, all from behind his lens. Yuri’s body started stiff, crimped from its position of servitude and the undeniable soreness between his legs. As he walked and posed, he regained his normal elasticity, until Otabek was lifting Yuri’s leg over his head and coaxing him into a Biellmann. Chris photographed the plug sticking obscenely from his cheeks. 

“Let’s see how you look with some company,” Chris purred.

Chris made Yuri crawl into Leo’s lap, straddling the wide-eyed American. The two shared kisses, cocks stroking together as Yuri ground onto him, seduced him all over again for Chris’ collection. When Chris commanded Yuri to Seung Gil, the Korean scooted to the edge of the couch, dropped his cock into Yuri’s waiting mouth, and painted Yuri’s face when he came. 

“Leave it there,” Otabek ordered when Yuri reached for a towel. 

Chris’ camera clicked as a dollop dripped down Yuri’s brow, caught on his lashes, and forced one of his eyes to close. 

Otabek made an allowance for the sake of Yuri’s sight. He grabbed one of the warm, damp hand towels and brushed it over Yuri’s eyelid until he could blink again. 

Yuri gave his master the most adoring smile, and Chris captured that, too. 

“Hands and knees,” Otabek said, and when Yuri complied he felt the tell tale brush of the sharpie over his ass, marking Seung Gil’s pleasure.

“Are you going to come again?” Yuri asked as Chris led him to Minami, whose hand was already clutching his little cock in excitement. 

Minami nodded without hesitation. 

“Open your mouth,” Otabek commanded his boy.

“It’s dirty — “ Minami started, but Otabek waved his hand. Yuri groaned (pleasure? disgust?) as he sank back on his knees and closed his mouth around it. 

It _was_ dirty. Seung Gil had worn a condom; his cock just tasted vaguely like latex. But Minami’s? 

Yuri fought down the urge to gag. He was used to the taste of cum, but he’d never tasted his own ass before, even cleaned as it was, and he’d never tasted so _much_ cum. Minami had stirred the creamy soup in Yuri’s ass, and now Yuri got to lick the spoon clean like a kid with cookie dough. 

There was too much salt. 

When he tried to pull off, Otabek’s hand circled the back of his neck, holding him in place between Minami’s quivering thighs. Yuri swallowed, stilled himself to the task, and went down again.

Minami made these breathless squeaking noises, strained gasps and beautiful soft shrieks. Yuri had to use his hands to keep Minami’s knees from squeezing shut. Before Minami came Otabek pulled Yuri away, turned him so the hot liquid splashed into the valley between Yuri’s shoulders.

It oozed down his back, but Yuri didn’t even bother reaching for a towel. He knelt there, grateful for the reprieve from taking cock, dripping in the goo of those around him.

“Otabek, can I have a turn?” 

Mila. Yuri turned to find her relaxing on the couch, in her harness once more, stroking one of her glass dildos.

“Go,” Otabek said, and Yuri crawled to her feet, offering his sweet lips and his little pink tongue. 

“Nice and wet, Yuri,” Mila said.

Yuri’s ass clenched, thinking about her fucking him again. She’d been so strong without being rough. Yuri pushed his throat onto Mila’s clear cock, spearing himself, letting his muscles clamp in alarm at the sudden lack of air. His salivary glands went into overdrive, and when he pulled off a minute later there was plenty of dripping slickness.

“OK,” Mila said, “On you—”

“ _Actually_ ,” Sara chimed. Yuri blinked in confusion, only to see Sara pull away from Emil and straddle Mila. 

“Sara!” Mila’s gasp sounded as delighted as it did surprised. 

Yuri had a front row view of Sara’s still-puffy sex opening around the tip of the dildo. He watched the lips stretch into a perfect O as Sara descended onto the thing, could even see inside her through the glass.

“I always wanted to try this,” Sara grinned, hands bracing on Mila’s shoulders as she lifted herself up and then dropped down again.

“Oh, _blyad_ ,” Mila cursed beneath her breath, shivering at the sight.

Yuri was staring in rapt fascination. It was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen, besides Otabek domming Victor. 

Fuck, that was hot too. 

Yuri ground absently down against the plug inside him.

“Come on, Yuri! Keep it wet!” Sara grinned over her shoulder. 

Oh, fuck. 

Otabek nudged Yuri forward and Yuri’s tongue came out again, licking that thick cock every time Sara lifted off of it. When she settled, Yuri nudged his nose in there, laving his tongue over her spread lips, to that curve of skin at the base of her vagina. 

He found himself swirling his tongue higher, to the little bud of her asshole. 

“ _Yuri_.” It was Emil that time, and god, Yuri never realized just how much he loved people saying his name. Especially in _that_ tone: that desperate, needing groan that meant Yuri could satisfy them. 

Yuri pulled back and saw Emil, not even touching his cock, though it was thick and red enough to burst. 

Again.

Yuri looked back at his master, who nodded and reached down to pull out Yuri’s plug. He went slow, making sure Yuri could clamp down and hold what was inside of him. Yuri climbed onto the couch, onto Emil’s lap, onto Emil’s cock.

He watched Emil watching Sara and Mila. When Mila’s hands came to Sara’s hips, pushing her down harder, Emil mirrored the action. His hands were thick, his cock thicker, and Yuri mewled helplessly as his body was shoved onto that monster to the root. His body burned, all the friction of the past… however long it had been… hours?… coming to a head.

He pushed himself back up, thighs singing, and Emil drew him down again.

And again.

Until Yuri was shaking.

Sara was quiet, like she’d been with Yuri, but her face looked like a painting and Yuri was so glad he could hear Chris clicking away still. Mila was bucking up into her every time she came down, meeting each other in these wet-smacking cymbal strikes.

Why was it so fucking hot to watch other people have sex?

Why was it so fucking hot to see two women have sex?

Look at the way Sara’s breasts were bouncing! 

“Sir!” Yuri gasped, but it was too late. As Emil yanked him down again, as Emil’s cock touched that sweet spot inside him, Yuri found himself coming.

He wasn’t alone.

A few moments later the couch was covered in four panting, breathless, post-coital people - and three cups of juice at the end table miraculously anticipated by the silver blur of Victor. 

“Tsk tsk,” Otabek said. He grabbed Yuri’s hair and pulled him off Emil’s cock, onto the floor. Yuri half tumbled, crashing onto the quilt and then getting up as soon as possible to relieve the pressure on his skull. He snuggled into Otabek’s leg, leaning on his master. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuri murmured. “I didn’t real—“ 

“Quiet,” Otabek said. Yuri closed his mouth, taking steadying breaths. “Seung Gil - do you want to punish him again?”

“Tired,” Seung Gil waved his hand in apology.

“Could… can I try?” Leo piped up. 

Of everyone on the couches, Leo was the only one Yuri hadn’t brought to completion.

“Hand only, if you’ve never done it before,” Otabek said. Leo nodded in agreement and stood up, walking over to Otabek and his boy, still leaning against his master’s leg like a pup. “On your feet, boy.” 

Yuri struggled, Emil’s aggressive fuck having wrecked him. 

Otabek helped Yuri up, using his body to stabilize the trembling thing. Otabek shoved his foot between Yuri’s, pushing first one leg to the side, then the other. Then Otabek took a step back, making Yuri bend forward if he wanted to keep hugging his master. The end result was a spread-legged boy, ass pushed out for his punishment.

“Try a few times, to get the feel of it,” Otabek suggested. “Not too hard.”

Leo bit his lip, glancing around to see everyone watching him. He blushed. 

“You can do it, Leo-chan!” Minami squeaked, and several other voices added their encouragement. 

“ _Guys_ ,” Leo blushed deeper. He touched Yuri’s already pink ass, brushing over the hash marks as Otabek added the latest. Leo’s first few attempts didn’t hit quite right, connecting at the wrong angle or without the reverb he wanted. Otabek coached Leo on the best places to strike, how to keep his hand tense and flat, and after a minute Leo was getting consistently solid strokes that vibrated all the way through Yuri’s ass and taint and cock. 

“Now hit harder,” Otabek encouraged. “Yuri, start your count.”

Yuri’s body jumped with the force of the hit, gasping and tightening his arms around Otabek’s chest. He stayed in position, though, ass on full display, legs spread wide to keep himself vulnerable. 

He belonged to Otabek, and Otabek was giving Yuri’s body to all of his friends like a gift, something delicious for them to share together. 

Yuri wanted to be the very best gift.

His voice stayed strong for the count, even if he started to space out towards the end, lost to the scent of Otabek’s bare chest and the feel of Otabek holding him, petting his hair, while someone else hurt his body. 

Otabek always took care of Yuri while he was being hurt. Even if Otabek was the one hurting him.

By the time Yuri cried out “Twenty!” Leo had fully regained his confidence - and his erection.

“Use him, if you like,” Otabek said. 

“Can I have him on his stomach?” Leo asked, and Otabek nodded, loosened his hold on Yuri, who was all too content to lay out on the quilt and rest while Leo toed apart his legs and mounted him. Or, at least, Yuri’d thought he could rest.

“Make it feel good for him,” Otabek said, nudging Yuri’s shoulder with his foot.

Yuri groaned. The smack of Leo’s hips just felt like more spanking, but Yuri arched his spine, angling his hips up for Leo, and pulsed his ass feebly around the intrusion. Every thrust was starting to burn, no amount of lube able to make up for the fact that he’d been fucked for hours.

“I’m forever spoiled,” Chris lamented as he loaded in a new roll of film. Yuri had forgotten him in the rush of sex with Mila and Emil. “And we haven’t even gotten to my scene.”

That made Yuri’s eyes open again, look up to Chris in surprise. 

“You thought I only wanted to take pictures?” Chris teased. He reached down with one hand, groping his thick cock. “I need more than that, Yuri.”

Yuri just moaned, cum-covered face pressing into the quilt, and shivered as he felt Leo hasten.

—

“Victor.” Yuuri caught his husband’s wrist as he returned from offering Sara, Mila, and Emil their juice. 

“Hmm?” Victor asked, but in that distracted tone he always used when his mind was elsewhere. 

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s hands, the sleeves of their fluffy robes brushing together. Yuuri drew him to the side, pushing closer until Victor was backed against the wall. 

“Victor,” Yuuri repeated, and Victor’s eyes finally landed on him.

“Chris hasn’t really started his scene yet,” Victor said, looking over Yuuri’s shoulder, watching Chris take one last picture as Leo’s body arched in ecstasy, quivering through his orgasm. “If you want him, you should g—“

“Victor,” a third time. Yuuri’s fingertips came to Victor’s lips, quieting him. Then he followed Victor’s gaze, watching Chris flip Yuri onto his back and spread his arms and legs into an X. Otabek was there with restraints, helping Chris tether Yuri over the quilt, spread-eagled. “How many marks are on his ass, do you think?”

“18,” Victor said, without hesitation. “Wait - how many times did Sara— 22? 22.”

“Hmm. 22,” Yuuri nodded his appreciation. “That’s quite a lot.”

“Yes,” Victor said, distracted voice again. He even shifted like he wanted to get away, to fetch more juice or check the warm towels or make sure once-shy Leo could see his reassuring smile. Yuuri shook his head, leaning in until his lips were next to Victor’s ear.

“And how many of those hash marks are _yours_?” Yuuri whispered.

Victor blushed. 

“Tell me,” Yuuri coaxed, though he already knew the answer. His fingers strummed Victor’s lips again.

“I need to be ready — in case Chris finishes early, in case you and I need to —“ 

“How many, Victor,” Yuuri replaced his fingers with his lips, catching the corner of Victor’s mouth in his affection. 

Victor whimpered against Yuuri, some mix of embarrassment and arousal, not to mention Yuuri’s hand had slipped down the front of his robe. It stoked the embers of Victor’s erection, enlivening the blood-heavy thing. 

“Yuuri,” Victor whined, weight resting against the wall as his tail bone tucked and his hips lifted into the touch. 

“Tell me,” Yuuri cooed, forefinger and thumb in a ring that he slid from tip to base. 

“…none,” Victor sighed beneath his breath. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri nodded. “Look at everything you put together, Victor. How many conversations did you have to have? How many late night phone calls and text threads?” 

Yuuri didn’t stop stroking Victor as he gazed over his shoulder again. 

“Look at everyone,” Yuuri said. “Everyone we love from the ice, together, being vulnerable and silly and sexy.” His eyes turned back to his husband. “Only you could do that, Victor. No one else.”

Victor turned a gorgeous crimson color, flush spreading from his nose out across his cheeks.

“Buy you’re so busy taking care of everyone, you haven’t had time to enjoy it,” Yuuri said. 

“Yuuri,” Victor whined again.

“Shhh,” Yuuri reassured. “You’re mine for now, Vika. Do as I say. Take a deep breath.”

Victor’s muscles pulsed under his skin, like he might try to wiggle free, but he couldn’t escape Yuuri’s eyes. He stilled, all save for his chest, which arched out in a deep, slow inhale. 

“Hold it just a moment,” Yuuri said. “And release.” 

Victor’s body melted with the exhale, head tipping forward to nuzzle Yuuri’s cheek.

“Good,” Yuuri said, free hand coming up to pet Victor’s hair, run the pads of his fingers along his scalp. His other hand kept gliding between Victor’s legs, hardening him even as the rest of his body relaxed.

“Now,” Yuuri said. “I want you to take a moment and appreciate all you’ve done.” 

Yuuri’s fingers slipped lower, cradling Victor’s balls, curling his fingers underneath them and then letting them fall. “Look at Mila. She never would have come if you hadn’t shown her how much it meant to Yuri. And now she’s —“ Yuuri glanced over his shoulder, just to double check. He chuckled. “— playing with Sara and Emil, having introduced our little kitten to pegging.” 

Victor swallowed, eyes on the couch where Emil sat, Mila and Sara on either side of him, snuggled together. 

“And those two…” Yuuri smiled, “Weren’t even officially together when you started talking to them, were they?”

“They felt it!” Victor defended as Yuuri’s hand tickled back up his length. “They just needed a nudge.”

“What they _needed_ was Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri said. “Should I go on? Leo’s only here because you sent him those articles on compersion. To this day I don’t know how you figured out Seung Gil was a kinkster.” 

“Takes one to know one,” Victor winked, and Yuuri just snorted and kissed him. Victor tried to take the lead, though his breath hitched when Yuuri pulled the pad of his finger against Victor’s sweet spot. “What about Minami?” Victor asked, staring into his husband’s eyes with mischief and adoration. “That was all you, my love.”

“That was just locker room luck,” Yuuri dismissed.

“Mm,” Victor smirked. 

“Hush.”

Victor’s arms came around Yuuri’s shoulders, drawing him closer, hips gliding up into Yuuri’s palm. 

“I suppose it _is_ special,” Victor finally acknowledged. “Everyone here like this.”

“Once in a lifetime.”

The two stood silently together, _looking_ for the first time. Victor trembled, scooting his body into Yuuri’s hand, arousal all tied up with this throat-tightening sentiment. 

“I hope they like it,” Victor whispered, eyes revealing a narrower ‘they’.

Otabek, in his dark jeans and leather belt, knelt near Yuri’s spread body, watching as Chris’ feather light touch and wisp of silk fabric made it strain. Yuri was panting, limbs tugging on the restraints. He could deal with impact play for hours, but Chris’ tender, tickling touches? He was falling apart. 

It looked almost like a cat toy, Chris’ little plastic stick with the strip of silk on the end. He made it dance and flutter over Yuri’s body, such a tiny amount of sensation and yet: Yuri was sweating from the tension it left behind. The wake of that silk terror buzzed like a swarm of ants, an itch or tickle so strong it made his skin feel like a foreign beast. He just needed to be touched - properly touched - but there was no way for him to get the relief he needed. He hung in limbo, skin screaming.

“Chris!” Yuri begged, his spine inches above the quilt, pulled so tight. 

“Yuri,” Chris rumbled, that bass voice doing its own dark deeds to Yuri’s body. 

Yuri panted for air, struggling away from the silk. 

“Please, please fuck me,” Yuri whimpered. “Anything is better than this - anything is —”

“Yuri,” Otabek warned. 

Chris just chuckled, letting the silk tail graze Yuri’s inner thigh in slow passes. If Yuri thought his asshole burned, this was an entirely different fire. It didn’t just make his hairs stand on end, it felt like each of them was vibrating inside its pore. 

“FUCK!” Yuri yelled, bucking.

“Control yourself,” Otabek said, setting his hand on Yuri’s shoulder, waiting until his spine had touched the quilt again. 

On the edge of the scene, out of the spotlight, Yuuri pressed his body up against his husband’s. 

“It looks like they like it just fine,” Yuuri purred. Chris was a very patient lover, and it meant his scene could very well go on like this for the better part of an hour. 

That gave Yuuri plenty of time to distract his husband.

He kept Victor on the edge, fingers teasing, playing with foreskin and balls until Victor couldn’t take it anymore. Watching Chris with Yuri? Getting his husband’s full and undivided and wicked attention?

“Please,” Victor asked, and he turned to face the wall. 

Yuuri covered him. Yuuri covered him and lifted up his robe and sank to his knees to lick Victor to readiness. 

When he pushed into Victor’s body, his idol-turned-coach-turned-husband sighed in relief. Victor was still all of those things to Yuuri, and he kissed his love for each of them onto the back of Victor’s neck. 

They were being watched, but neither of them noticed. 

Victor finally gave in to his own needs, moaning mutedly, nothing that could be heard over Yuri’s continued outcries. Yuri’s voice was showing signs of wear and tear, rasping now as Chris’ silk drifted over it like the subtlest breeze. 

“Vika,” Yuuri whispered, thumbing the head of Victor’s cock, his free hand finding Victor’s and lacing their fingers. 

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered. 

“Are you going to come in my boyfriend?” Yuuri asked. 

“Yeah.” A wonderful sigh. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed, forehead resting on Victor’s shoulders, thrusts slow and steady and right against Victor’s prostate.

“Is everyone —”

“They’re fine,” Yuuri reassured. “They’re enjoying the show.” Yuuri glanced over his shoulder, winked at Minami, who was staring slack-jawed. 

“Yeah?” Victor smiled, eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to know everyone was having a good time. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, puffing out a happy breath onto Victor’s neck. “Yeah, of course they are.”


	35. For Yuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, my wonderful people: our grand finale. What a very, very long journey we've had to this point, hmm? 
> 
> Quite so. 
> 
> There's an epilogue still to come, and I'll do most of my gushing there, but you should know how very much I care about each and every one of you that's come through this wild ride with me. This is so much of my heart and soul, my time and attention, and knowing that you've shared it with me brings me the most sublime satisfaction and gratitude. 
> 
> Thank you, all of you.
> 
> (and of course, per usual, extra fuzzies to [verity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity) for the beta)

Yuri hung, suspended in time, embryonic and warm and in every way nurtured. 

At the start of the night he’d been buoyed by endorphins, anticipation, excitement. Minutes and then hours were flashes of pleasure, pain, and the unbridled joy of servitude. 

He passed the point of exhaustion, sunk into something far more surreal, a physical delirium. The link between thought and action widened, then grew tenuous, and finally, after being drawn back again and again by Otabek, Yuri drifted.

Far away, outside the comforting lull of his mind, someone was calling his name. Someone was petting him, hands tracing the contours of the skin within which his mind floated, unthinking, uncaring, and free. 

“Yuri,” that voice said again. 

He loved that voice. Pure, immeasurable, spiritual love.

 _Yes_ , Yuri wanted to say, _I’m here_ , but he wasn’t. 

There were more than hands touching his skin. All the textures - sticky, damp, musty, scratched - were elsewhere, out of the narrow field of Yuri’s existence. Only one slipped beneath his skin, penetrating the protective barriers that coddled him, kept him safe, giving him a much needed respite. 

He tried to kick at the sudden intrusion, but he was held, secured at the extremities in the vaguest approximation of swaddling. 

“Yuri.”

That sensation inside of him was so very, very bright.

 _Don’t you see?_ He wanted to ask. It’s safe here. 

It’s safe here, Otchka. 

I can serve you here, Sir. 

The texture changed, no longer bright and warm but a sudden splash of cold. Yuri’s shell broke open and he suddenly gasped, choked on the air. His eyes focused, gazing up into the brown-black pair at the center of his universe. 

“Sir,” Yuri coughed, water dripping off his chin. 

“There you are,” Otabek murmured, cupping Yuri’s sweet, bruised, abused face.

Yuri hurt. 

He blinked around the space filled with bodies that had all tasted his deepest intimacies, some offering pleasure in return, others pain. How many hours had the friction built? How many hours had his body been made to endure their constant, unending use? 

Hours. 

It had to be hours. 

Please, god, let it be hours.

“More, please,” Yuri whispered, like he had so many times. 

“You’ve had enough.”

Yuri shook his head. It had been so _warm_. He felt the pull of that space, that rift in reality. It had drawn him in and let him give all that he so desperately wanted to give. Why did his body make it so hard? Why was he continuously faced with its physical limitations? 

He’d been taught, if he wanted to achieve greatness, to leave his body behind and be born anew. 

“Please, Otchka,” Yuri looked up into his master’s eyes.

That gaze, the weight of his master’s concern, felt like a lead mantel, and Yuri would have crumpled if not for the fact that he was already laying flat on the quilt-covered floor.

“Otabek.”

That was a different voice.

“Go ahead,” Otabek allowed. “Start gently.” That brightness Yuri had felt before, the blazing beautiful pain behind him, blossomed. 

“Oh-- oh god, Yuri,” that voice said. 

He’d had so many lovers tonight. They flocked around him still, holding space for his service. But _this_ lover was different. That voice made his soul sing.

“Yuuri,” Yuri whispered.

“Yes,” Yuuri purred. “And not just me.” 

Was that why it was so bright? That hurt? 

Yuri’s musculature had long lost the ability to tighten, but he could still rock, still exchange the distribution of his body weight from one hip to the other and in the process sense what was inside him. 

_Oh_.

There were two of them.

Yes. That’s what that was. The pain settled into the background as Yuri’s focus shifted, turned inward not to escape but to explore how it felt carrying both of them.

“Vitya?” 

“Mm.” A third voice and a thrust, an inward flare of sensation. 

They were taking turns moving. One holding still, the other thrusting, but both penetrating, stretching, breaking him. 

As they shifted Yuri’s body overflowed, foaming with the seed he’d kept safe inside him. As his ass stretched to new limits, the briny gunk found every raw nerve-ending, blazing against it. 

Yuri felt a hand underneath his cheek, supporting the weight of his head. Otabek held him, watching the saccades of Yuri’s eyes to make sure he hadn’t slipped away. 

It was so tempting to slip away. 

“Otchka,” Yuri whispered. “Sir.”

His voice was a flute, unheard next to the drum of Yuuri’s hips or the strings of Victor’s moans.

“Yes?” Otabek’s thumb on his face, petting down his nose the way he always did to calm his boy. 

This was the first time it made Yuri want to cry. 

The tears bubbled along the line of his eyelids before he could help it and poured over, thick shining rivulets.

“Yurike…” Otabek soothed, not wiping the tears away but watching their beauty, catching them as they dripped. “I know… I know.” Otabek shook his head. “My boy…” 

Yuuri’s hand joined Otabek’s, collecting a swatch of tears on his fingertip. 

“Yuri,” Yuuri sighed, licking away that delicate taste.  “It’s almost over. This is it.”

But Yuri couldn’t take his eyes off Otabek. 

“You’re almost there, perfect boy.” 

— 

Victor and Yuuri must have come. It wasn’t the heat of their release or the volume of their gasps or the sudden thickness of their girths. Yuri just… _felt_ in the way you can only feel when your body and soul are unraveling at the edges. Reality was so _flexible_ , and Yuri sensed their completion like force waves from a fallen star. 

“Am I done?” Yuri whispered to his god.

Otabek set the clock down in front of Yuri’s exhausted eyes, watching them strain to focus. 

5:01 

And Yuri cried once more, this time with relief.

The restraints fell away to the sound of whistles and cheers and laughing congratulations. His wrists and ankles felt cool as unnoticeable air currents chilled the sweat there.

Yuri touched the cheek of his ass, fingertips searching like he might be able to read the hash marks there. How many had he managed?

Each hash mark was an orgasm _he’d_ caused, with his body, for his master. 

“Yuri Plisetsky.”

He opened his eyes to see Otabek’s legs, trailed up them until his neck crimped and Otabek’s face was all his world. He was holding the collar, a perfect ring of steel, all but seamless, custom sized for Yuri’s neck. 

Yuuri was beside Yuri, helping him kneel, spreading Yuri’s ankles so the hard bone wouldn’t be pressing into his sensitive ass. It still couldn’t quite close, and the seed he’d been keeping safe spilled onto he quilt beneath him. 

“S…” Yuri tried to speak, but his voice was nearly gone. He’d spent so long screaming and crying out during Chris’ torture - and then entirely different screams when Chris was inside of him. That was when everything had started to blur together, when Victor came to him… 

Victor. 

Victor was there on the other side of Yuri, a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, holding out a little cup of juice to Yuri’s ravaged face. 

Yuri drank, swallowed, breathed, and looked back at his master.

“Sir,” he managed. 

“Lift your chin,” Otabek commanded. 

Yuri realized he was shivering, trembling with the enormity of it. He collected himself, stretched as elegantly as he could. Yuuri, flanking him, gathered Yuri’s hair and lifted it away from his neck. 

Otabek grabbed the slim metal rod hanging from the chain on his neck - Yuri hadn’t thought much of it before, only how handsome Otabek looked. It wasn’t until Otabek brought the end of the rod to a near-invisible hole on the collar that he realized it was a key. The metal split, a hinge appearing in what looked like solid steel.

Otabek brought the metal ring to Yuri’s throat, cool and light, and then dropped to one knee so he could use the key to close it. Yuri leaned into his master’s solidity, feeling so much more than just the physical weight of the collar as it sealed around his neck. 

Around him, another set of cheers went up. Otabek lifted him to shaking, trembling feet, and when he stumbled, swooped Yuri into his arms.

Chris stood in front of them, capturing their first kiss: the tears in Yuri’s half-lidded eyes, the tenderness in Otabek’s, and the brush of a master’s lips against his boy’s collar. Then Yuuri and Victor joined from each side: Victor’s hand on Yuri’s calf, Yuuri’s in his hair. 

“You did it,” Yuuri whispered. 

The last thing Yuri remembered was smiling, safe and complete and whole. 

—

Yuri stirred. The bright lights and naked bodies of the main room were gone. There was only Otabek’s warm chest, Otabek’s steady breathing, Otabek’s sturdy arms.

Yuri reached to his neck, almost surprised when his fingertips collided with metal. The collar was real, warmed by his skin, carrying the heat of his body. It was all real.

“Otchka,” Yuri sighed.

“Welcome back,” Otabek said. 

“Where’s…” 

Yuri was being lowered into the basin of a bath, but there was no water. His knees protested at the hard enamel bottom and his arms tried to brace and failed. He collapsed to his chest in fatigue, a helpless child’s pose. 

“I wanted us to be alone,” Otabek said, and his voice sounded…soft. Different than it had in front of all of their friends. “I… have one last thing for you.”

Yuri struggled to open his eyes, blinking up at Otabek, sitting on the edge of the tub. “A test?”

Otabek shook his head.

“Yuri.”

Yes?

“Look at me?”

Oh. His eyes had closed. Time had passed.

Yuri tried once, twice, and finally opened his eyes. Otabek was standing in the tub with him, in front of him.

“Do you remember, the first time I brought you home with me?” Otabek asked. 

Yuri swallowed. 

“You got down on your knees in front of me and reached for my belt,” Otabek said. 

Yuri remembered. How could he forget? He’d been so startled. 

“Undress me,” Otabek whispered. 

Yuri gathered his limbs, reached trembling fingers to Otabek’s belt. He could hardly move, but somehow he tugged the leather through the buckle, bent it away from the prong, and then pulled it free. He reached for the button, pausing before he touched. 

“Otchka?” 

“It’s alright.” 

Yuri took a breath, lip caught under his teeth as he thumbed the button through the hole, then drew down the zipper. He pushed the jeans down, and there was nothing underneath but Otabek’s cock. 

Otabek’s cock.

Yuri tried to say… anything. But there was no response capable of encompassing even a fraction of what he felt, and no moisture left in his mouth to speak it. 

“You… wanted to give me something that night, but I couldn’t accept it,” Otabek said. “…I was afraid.”

Unlike everyone else Yuri had been with, Otabek didn’t idly stroke his cock. He just cupped the soft thing, sizable even without blood filling it, the lack of foreskin showing off the head. 

“Try again,” Otabek commanded. 

Yuri was breathing so fast. When had that started? The oxygen pumped through him, inflating his awareness, honing his focus through the fog. 

“Otchka,” Yuri stuttered. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Yuri leaned forward, to the soft flesh, and pressed his lips against the head, eyes fluttering closed. He held his mouth there, like he expected to feel the little pulse he always felt in Yuuri or Victor’s cocks. But the skin stayed spongey, inert, yet remarkably warm.

“I know I can’t give you what most people can,” Otabek said as Yuri opened his mouth, letting the flesh rest on his tongue. He suckled it between his lips, ever so mindful of his master - no, his boyfriend. He set a hand on Otabek’s thigh, gauging the tension. 

Making sure Otabek didn’t freeze. But there were only subdued shivers.

“I’ve had dreams about filling you,” Otabek said, “the way they did. But you and I have always found our own way, haven’t we?” 

Yuri let the damp cock slide from his mouth. He puckered his lips into a kiss, a final tenderness for that exposed crown before he drew back. His eyes turned to Otabek’s, and he managed a dazed, adoring smile. “Always.”

Otabek nodded, brushing a finger across Yuri’s lips. “I found a way. To… fill you. If you want to try.”

“Anything,” Yuri breathed. He touched his collar, then touched that hand to Otabek’s abdomen. “I’m yours.”

Otabek’s hand clasped over Yuri’s, squeezed.

“Bend over, then, and open yourself. As wide as you can.”

Yuri’s body was so open already. His fingers fell inside, slipping on the edge and cascading in. He caught the wrecked, raw muscle, slippery with a dozen loads of cum, and pulled it apart.

Cool air flowed inside of him, soothing the angry, ruined passage.

Otabek stepped out of his jeans and moved behind Yuri, stroking Yuri’s ass in reassurance. From the side of the tub he picked up a huge, thick glass plug, unique not in material or size but for the open tunnel that ran through the plug’s entire length. 

It wasn’t a plug at all. It was a funnel, a glass tunnel into Yuri’s body. 

“I asked Victor and Yuuri to stretch you out for me,” Otabek said. “But I didn’t tell them why. This is ours. Just ours.”

Yuri’s neck hurt too much to keep watching what Otabek was doing. He let his head hang, every cell of his body attuned to Otabek’s actions.

“Otchka,” he whimpered.

He felt the end of the plug touch his fingers and push. He slid his digits out of the way as the funnel made progress. The opening was almost as wide as a poker chip, but Otabek maintained his firm, steady pressure until Yuri’s wrecked asshole gave in and accepted it, and the rest of the plug followed smoothly afterwards.

There was a pause, and Yuri looked back again. Otabek just _held_ his cock, the same way Yuri held his every morning when he walked half-hard to stand in front of the toilet. 

And suddenly Yuri understood exactly how Otabek was going to fill him. 

Yuri had never even imagined it, and yet, in an instant, his whole body ached with desire and awe. That Otabek was willing to… to _use_ him in this most basic way. To _mark_ him in a way so much more intimate than the hashes on his ass. 

“Please,” Yuri whimpered. He wanted Otabek inside of him. He’d _dreamed_ of Otabek inside of him, and Otabek had finally found a way to make it happen. Yuri’s fingers fumbled to the collar at his neck. For all that he adored that metal ring already, there was no more raw, bestial way to say ‘ _this is mine_ ’ than this.

“Can I come?” Yuri begged. He choked on the air in his lungs, overwhelmed all over again. “When you — fill me? Can I come, Sir?”

Otabek reached beneath him, cradled his hardness. 

“Yes.”

Yuri pushed into Otabek’s hand in gratitude and then went still, quiet, waiting for that acrid warmth.

“Yuri. Look at me.”

He did, holding onto those eyes like a lifeline. 

Seconds passed, the pair frozen, and then warm liquid splashed over Yuri’s shoulders, stinging over the red marks on his back. It rose, polishing the permanent marker on Yuri’s ass, and then flowed through the funnel, inside him.

It was so warm in the wake of the cool air.

“Otchka,” Yuri gasped, and Otabek splashed his neck, his cheek. Yuri’s tongue slid out to taste his master. 

It streamed inside of him again, washing out everyone else’s cum, replacing it with the essence of Yuri’s master, as raw as it came. Yuri lowered his chest, arched his ass higher, wishing he could keep his master inside him always, could be the vessel for his gift. 

Yuri swore he could feel it stretching him, cleaning out all of the little nooks and crevices inside, marking Yuri, claiming Yuri, _owning_ Yuri through and through.

The pitch of the trickling liquid increased as the funnel filled and finally overflowed, cum and piss dripping down Yuri’s taint, through the grooves of his ball sac, and down the length of Yuri’s dangling cock. 

Otabek finished with two short spurts on the wrinkled bottoms of Yuri’s feet. The stream petered off. Stopped.

Yuri remembered to breathe. His face was wet.

Otabek moved in front of him again while the liquid clung to Yuri’s forearms and knees, his cock and whatever skin was touching the basin. “No matter how many others have you, you will always be mine. You will always come back to my bed. You will always kneel at my feet.” 

“Yes,” Yuri shivered. He somehow lifted his head, laid his cheek between the sloping pillows of Otabek’s bruised feet. “ _Yes_. Otabek.”

—

Otabek turned on the bath tap, watching Yuri as his hand gauged the temperature. Yuri was slumped, his eyes closed, breathing slow and even - drifting or asleep, it was hard to say. 

He let his boyfriend rest. 

Otabek pulled the faucet head free of its clip, moving the warm water down Yuri’s body. He rinsed Yuri’s hair, fingers sliding over Yuri’s scalp, ruining the last remnants of Lilia’s braids. He scrubbed his boy with a washcloth from head to toe, wiping his face clean of muck and makeup, clearing the sweat and salty residue between fingers and toes. 

He turned Yuri to his back and withdrew the funnel so his body could drain. Yuri whimpered, tightening.

“Shh, I know it hurts,” Otabek whispered. Yuri’s head drifted back and forth.

“N-no… I want to- to keep you inside me,” Yuri murmured, hand coming between his legs, touching his asshole as if he could stop the flow. 

“Yurike,” Otabek hushed, holding the water in place until it ran clear. “You belong to me. I can fill you whenever you need.”

Yuri’s eyes didn’t open, but his lips twitched, pulling back in this dead-tired, deliriously happy smile.

Otabek turned off the tap, blanketing Yuri in a towel and fluffing it over him. He dried under Yuri’s arms and between his legs, then tousled Yuri’s hair until it stopped dripping. Peaking under the towel, he found Yuri’s peaceful, angelic face. He lifted the sleeping boy into his arms once more, carrying him to bed, to rest, and to all their future days together.


	36. Epilogue & Acknowledgments

“Ah! Otabek! A new place just went on the market,” Victor said, popping up from his chair and swinging his phone around in front of the group. “Come come let’s go, get bundled up. It’s a bit far away.” 

“ _Victor_ ,” Yuuri groaned, in the middle of getting a rather delicious blow job.

“Oh, you’re not even that close,” Victor smirked, poking Yuuri’s cheek. “Besides, Yuri’s mouth will be here when we get back.” He continued poking until Otabek came over, touched Yuri’s collar, and commanded him off. Yuuri’s cock escaped with an audible ‘pop’, Yuri licking his lips as Otabek helped him to his feet. It had been almost a week since Yuri’s party, and he could finally walk without it being completely obvious.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Victor urged. “We don’t have all day, and it’s going to take awhile to get there.” He kept haranguing them as they shouldered their coats, secured their scarves, and pulled hats down over their ears. 

“This way, here we go, follow me,” Victor chortled, holding open the door. 

They all stepped into the hall while Victor fussed with the keys, locking up. “Now, just let me check my phone, just one minute, need to make sure I get the directions right.“

He held up his phone, taking a few steps to the left and then spinning around. 

“Ah huh! Here we are,” he grinned, the perfect showcase model as he waved his hand at the next door over. 

Otabek and Yuri both blinked. 

“What?” 

Yuuri sidled up to Victor, a cheesy, dumb, all-knowing smile on his face. Victor pulled out a different pair of keys, stuck them in the lock and turned. 

“Now, the location isn’t _quite_ what you were hoping for, but, I hear the landlord’s _very attractive_ ,” Victor beamed. “I hope you like it, because, well, I took the liberty of procuring you a lease.” He tossed the keys to Otabek, who caught them on reflex despite still being shell-shocked. 

“That side wall is a bit weak, but you could probably knock it down, if you wanted. I don’t think the neighbors would mind.” Victor was loving every sweet second of this.

“There’s an extra key, too,” he said, holding open the door. “Just in case, you know…. You have someone you might want to move in with? Rival? Rinkmate? Boyfriend? I don’t know, just spit-balling.”

“You _ass_ ,” Yuri stared. 

“Are you serious?” Otabek asked. 

Victor’s smile went from playful to earnest. He bit his lip and lifted his brow, hopeful. “If you two can stand to be so close to us... “ 

Otabek, normally so stoic, brought the edge of his hand to his mouth, staring at the sunlit interior of the apartment, freshly painted, glowing with possibility. 

“…I suppose there’s only one thing we can do,” he said. 

They all looked at him as he unwound one of the keys, placed it into Yuri’s palm, and without further ado scooped the boy into his arms and carried him across the hearth.  
  
  


The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

## 

Acknowledgments

It takes an incredible amount of encouragement and support to write anything, much less this 150k monster, so I hope you’ll indulge me, just a little.

— 

First and foremost, to my [**Sintina**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintina/pseuds/Sintina).

Most people don’t know that ADKOC is our story. After you commented for the first time on Chapter 6 (Feb 4), we shyly exchanged emails (Mar 4), became incredibly infatuated with each other as writers, and within ten days you’d author-proposed to me (Mar 14). By the end of the month (Mar 31) we posted [our first fic baby](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10509684)… annnnd that’s about when I realized I liked you as more than an author and collaborator. 

You were so giving of yourself. You left these poetic comments that perfectly encapsulated my intention and expounded on the dynamics. You were a constant cheerleader, no matter how my mood (or hormones) were swaying. You even created that wonderful original world of ours, societies built on trust and sex and acceptance. You were THERE, playful and insightful, brilliant and - when we finally got the guts to exchange pics - beautiful. How could I _not_ fall in love with you?

Also, god, your fucking puns <3 You dork.

Most people don’t know that Yuri’s sudden blurted confession “Is Yuuri my boyfriend?!” was in fact _my_ sudden blurted confession. Are YOU my partner, Sin? 

We talked with our mains - neither of us had done this before, but we followed our boys’ lead. Talk, talk, talk, text, text, text, until everyone was wildly enthusiastic. 

On June 23 I got on a plane and flew out to meet you, and June 24th we finally got our first kiss. I was writing a chapter of ADKOC, wasn’t I? And falling asleep doing so. You tapped my shoulder and when I turned to look at you, you took my cheeks in your hands and kissed me like I’d wanted to kiss you for months.

My lips are tingling just from writing that, and I’m blushing the way you made me blush our first video chat.

We’ve barely known each other for 6 months, and yet the things I feel with you, from you, towards you: They’re magic. 

So much of the discovery, the little details in this story, are ours. So this is for you. 

I love you <3

— 

Second, to **[verity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity)**. 

I’ve been scrolling through the old chapters and just got to Chap 14, where you wrote me [this amazing novel](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/100102806) that left me completely effing gobsmacked for like hours. 

Like, you’ve written a ton, you know the impact when someone not only takes the time to write up a really long list of the shit they love but when it _resonates_ with you so hard you just want to flail on the floor in pieces. 

That was you!! 

You gave me so much of your time so quickly, just like, a torrential force of nature named verity. I was blown away and a tiny bit intimidated, but what I realized after a bit (when we were still stuck talking on Tumblr messenger, jesus) was that your enthusiasm and openness actually gave ME permission to be way more open than I am to almost anyone else. 

Granted, I overdid it a bit at first (oops), but we wound up in this awesome place where I can shoot the shit with you any time I want. Where I can send you dumb videos that are literally just me petting my dog’s tongue (like wtf, dog, why do you not care about this?), and your response is \o/. 

You helped me find [Yuri’s collar](http://www.ringofsteel.net/stealthcollarpp.html). YOU LOOKED UP PEE DILDOS WITH ME. 

Y’all verity has known that Otabek was going to pee in Yuri’s butt for, like, months now. They were there for the entire emotional arc. All of the hand-wringing. Lots of looking at products with the brand name “Ox Balls”. Seeing inside _way too many_ San Francisco product modelers’ assholes.

And your editing! I told you this, I think, but there have only ever been two people who inspire me with their editing. Criticism, praise, framing, rephrasing, no matter what you say I can just soak it up and it always makes things _so much better_. Do you know what a gift that is? Someone who can push you to grow and expand and improve? 

Holy hell, it is a gift. 

Thank you for your time, thank you for your energy, thank you for your support, thank you for telling me when things could be better, thank you for helping me through periods of truly incredible ineptitude. Thank you for care packages filled with Victuuri undies phone charms and 1970s SF lesbian smut. 

I am so elated to be your bro. 

— 

Then there are SO MANY of you who were here for this crazy wild ride, who took the time to leave your thoughts and feels. You give me life????

**Maya** : You don’t even have a user account but you still show up EVERY DAMN CHAPTER with a comment, whether it’s a short word of encouragement or a dialogue about the characters or some TRULY AWESOME PROMPTS for what could happen in future chapters (several of which have made it into the story by now, I think!). Thank you!

**[MadHouse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHouse/pseuds/MadHouse)** : Mad, you are one of those truly ridic folks who actually reads, like, … like I think you’ve read almost everything I’ve written??? DO YOU KNOW HOW RIDIC THAT IS? And then to take the time to comment, every chapter??? You are a gift <3\. Seriously. Thank you.

**[RippedApart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RippedApart/pseuds/RippedApart)** : You’re also in the “long time fan” category. You’ve been through so many of my fics with me! That is SO special, and especially impressive given how kinky this one got in comparison to, say, Inherited Scars or Breath of Blossoms. It means the world that you stuck around <3 Thank you!

**Happy Feet aka[DancingPenguins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingPenguins/pseuds/DancingPenguins)** : It’s taking me forever to write my blurb for you because you were with this fic for SO LONG and left so many different comments that touched me and motivated me and made me smile. I write things to make other people feel good, and when folks take the time to make ME feel good in return? I am so grateful. Thank you for being you.

**[Vaughnrocks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaughnrocks/pseuds/Vaughnrocks)** : OMG Vaughn. Your comments always make me laugh!!! I feel so akin to you and all of your, just, like, indomitable enthusiasm around sex and kink and love, like whatever, if the babies are happy we are happy. I LOVE the way you cheered them on and rooted for them (SINCE CHAPTER 3 HOLY SMOKES) and I LOVE the way you even dove into some of my kinkier works headfirst like YASSSSSSSSSS. You are SO wonderful! THANK YOU

**[JaneNyx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneNyx/pseuds/JaneNyx)** : You! I still have the gender swap prompt you gave me at like the very high end of my ideas doc. I loved seeing your responses and getting to know what you like over the course of the fic. I can’t WAIT to write that gender swap fic and I so, so hope you like it (also, vaginas, seriously <3) THANK YOU!

**[Allykat23](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Allykat23/pseuds/Allykat23)** : For so long you didn’t even have an icon! You were just this awesome, iconless, almost anonymous commenter who left wonderful notes. I don’t know why you getting an icon stands out to me so much, but it made me super happy. It felt like getting to see you (“you”) for the first time! And then there were actual tears for Victor’s retirement and you’ve been so kind in the face of my little mini-panic around the GBGB. Your support is priceless! Thank you!

**[Tuples](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tuples/pseuds/tuples)** : Tuples you are the utmost sweetness! You have the loveliest icon, you always leave your thoughts and feelings each chapter (I adore reading them so much), you even rec’ed me on Tumblr! I have felt your support and enthusiasm like a blazing sun. This whole entire fic - like, for EIGHT MONTHS and 150k WORDS - you’ve been leaving me notes <3 I am so grateful. Thank you so much.

**[Phayte](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/pseuds/Phayte)** : PHAYTE. You wealth of enthusiasm and energy and words, you! You are one of the reasons I finally decided to bumble onto social media. It is terrifying, and I’m not sure I like it, but it’s certainly fun to see all the random pairings in your feed (and try my hand at a few :D). Thank you for your continued support and PREPARE FOR OTABEK DOMMING VICTOR BONUS CHAPTER. 

**[RainbowWolves](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowWolves/pseuds/RainbowWolves)** : Thank you not only for the most incredible sparkle dog icon ever (that I wound up staring at, mesmerized, way too many times), BUT for being silly enough to follow me on my Twitter escapades and start a new account. I’ve had way too much figuring out the nuance of that nonsense with you <3 Look! We even know how to DM. How far we’ve come!

**[Gei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gei/pseuds/gei)** : Gei! You read like, all through this whole story in the span of a week? And left comments on a dozen different chapters as you went? I was just super tickled to see you experience the whole ordeal in real time. Thank you for letting me witness that!

**[Yame5000](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Yame5000/pseuds/Yame5000)** : You started commenting in the middle of the fic, but your late game was super strong! PLUS you asked a ton of questions, and you can probably tell by now that I love nothing more than getting to elaborate on head canons and character motivations. THANK YOU for giving me an opportunity to do so. (Also [this thread](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/106542930))

**[notoriousfish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/notoriousfish/pseuds/notoriousfish)** : FISH! Your tumblr message recently was so heartfelt and appreciated <3 Few folks have tracked me to tumblr and fewer still have reached out there. Thank you so much for your kind words. It makes my heart ache in the best way to know how this fic has touched people <3

**[Francowitch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Francowitch/pseuds/Francowitch)** : GACK! I C+Ped over you the first time. NOoooooo! How could I copy-paste over you! I only just recently realized you and Phayte are a crew, so to speak, and feel extra-special to have caught y’alls eyes. You guys stuck around for the long haul and I am tickled by the constant presence of your BB icon and words of encouragement <3 Thank you!

**[addicted2reading16](http://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted2reading16/pseuds/addicted2reading16)** : You were here the whole way through pretty much, and always cheering on the fluff and love <3 I’m glad that, for a story that was supposed to be all about smut, so many people were able to see the underlying emotions tying these four together.

**[Lazchan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazchan/pseuds/Lazchan)** : I know you don’t like where this story wound up, but you were a consistent commenter from very early on and I appreciate that steadfast support :D (Especially that one thread we had about ways the OT4 could go terribly wrong, because we’re masochists like that) Thank you!

**ArtemisAmensia** : Your comments in the first half of the work were my lifeblood. You had such a solid grasp on how the character dynamics were evolving and what made them each special and how they interacted together. I adored that. Especially around chapters 10-14, when the four of them were first figuring each other out. I just loved everything you wrote. It was brilliant. Thank you so much <3

**[VielleOtaku](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VieilleOtaku/pseuds/VieilleOtaku)** : You have followed me through many fics now, haven’t you! Since Inherited Scars, I think? I love your deep dive on character psychology (especially that one time you and Sintina got into a thread about possessive!Yuuri!!). You’ve seen all the little signs that few other folks noticed; you know the secret character backstory. I’m very grateful you’ve deemed my fics worthy of your time/investigation :D Thank you!

**Libertine** : Your comment after the club always sticks in my mind, the way you were so concerned for Yuuri, especially when it felt a bit like he was getting replaced or pushed to the edge of the circle. I love it when folks empathize so strongly and are so attuned to little hurts that, if not discussed, could swell into big relationship issues. Not to mention, of course, your comments throughout the rest of the work. Honestly, they make such a difference. 

— 

There are so many other folks who left a few comments that just really made a big difference to me, whether they were here in the early days, dropped by in the middle, caught up for the end, or any combination. I ADORE YOU: 

Finalay, neuroglam (my enema prompter!), veriiitos, jessnikiforov, ehlyah, daemoninwhite, Azile, KiranPhantomGryphon, Katskiforov (KATSKI!!!!!), fujoshi_life, Lovelynightshade, RustyEyron, JohnlockSirens, some_other_metal, The_Princess_Pat, sparklespiff, carrielyn, pallidvixen, Challan, Fantasyfinder4vr, viktuuriqueenkelina, ThePrettyNameless, BrofriendWrites (<3 <3 <3), loretoo, gaemmel, XMadamRoseX, valar_dohaeris, BegoneThot, DaiviaLesley, zachemja, CaptainMantis

AND GOODNESS GRACIOUS I know I’m probably forgetting folks, please don’t mistake my horrific memory for lack of gratitude.   
— 

AND FINALLY to all y’all that read but don’t know what to say or how, who left kudos and silently cheered (or moaned, or griped, or whatever ;)): THANK YOU. 

**If you feel particularly socially brave, I invite you to leave a comment: Even if it’s just a simple <3! **

**If you need a prompt** , here are a few fun ones:

  * Ask a question to one of the characters in the story and I’ll write up their response
  * Did this fic teach you anything or give you a new perspective on anything?
  * Let me know your all time favorite moment of the fic
  * Tell me your favorite pairing in the fic
  * If you’re particularly daring: What was the sexiest thing in this fic for you?



((And feel free, anyone else, to take advantage of these prompts too ;)))

— 

**What now?!**

  * While I’ve marked the fic as “complete”, expect a few bonus chapters still to come.
  * You can also see some silly behind-the-scenes stuff for ADKOC on my [tumblr](https://nomanono.tumblr.com/), or listen to me goof off on [twitter](https://twitter.com/nomswords). Down the road, I hope to edit and release ADKOC as a little ebook, so if you’re interested, the best place to find updates would be there <3
  * If you dig these characters, everything in [the S4 Collection](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Silly_Sweet_Serious_Sexy) happens on this same timeline.
  * If you just really like this story, I’ve got another work I’ll be posting shortly that’s going to be a fun ride (I hope!). I believe you can [subscribe to me here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomanono/pseuds/Nomanono).



—

PHEW. Thanks y’all. Putting this love into the world has been my way of combatting the hate. Thank you for loving with me <3


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